


To Save You, Let's Be Us

by Saenda



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Love/Hate, M/M, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 07:31:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4598196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saenda/pseuds/Saenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damen couldn't afford his flat on his own, so when he's forced to find a new flatmate, rather late at that, he really had no choice but to accept Laurent since he's the only one who answered his ad. The thing is... Laurent seems to hate him, without good reasons, mind you. Not that Damen has much love for him either. It would be fine if they could ignore each other, but fate appears to like wovening their lives together in many ways, despite them struggling to untangle.</p><p>And then Laurent's uncle makes his appearance and everything comes crumbling down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The new flatmate

**Author's Note:**

> As reference for the whole fic:
> 
> "Normal speech"  
> / _Texting_ /  
>  _Thoughts_  
>  " **French** "

Damen sipped his coffee, checking a few times on his phone whether or not he had received any texts. It was rather useless, as his phone sat on the table before him, and he would have seen _and_ heard it if anything came up. Damen could not help it however. He was fidgety, fingers tapping either on the table or his cup, and checking his phone twice a minute reassured him. Thankfully, the quiet buzz of conversations in the cafe he was currently sitting inside of relaxed him as he waited, chasing a small part of his nervousness away.

 

His cell phone dinged and it was all it took not to lunge at the thing. As Damen picked it up, he saw that Kastor had texted him.

 

_/hey, lil bro. so have u met that new roommy yet?/_

_/No, im waiting for him right now. God, kastor, i hope hes not some sort of weirdo with strange habits. Who still search for a flat at this time of year? The desprate i’m sure./_

Damen sighed, swiftly typing his answer and sending it, then putting the phone away, fingers once more drumming on the table. No, he hadn't met that new roommate yet. They’d merely exchanged a few emails, nothing more. Damen didn’t even know what he looked like for real, only aware of some physical traits the other gave him.

 

Not that Damen had decided whether they would be living together or not. He was waiting to see what kind of person they were and how they would react to the few rules he had set for the flat.

 

...Who was he kidding? He was in too much need of money to even _think_ of judging whether or not the other person would be a worthy roommate or not. Damen had worked a lot over the summer and raised enough money to pay for his year at the university as well as his share of the flat. He still worked ten hours a week, as was recommended – restricted – by the university, but it wouldn’t be enough to cover for the extra share. So he was forced to find someone that would help him keep his lodging lest he was thrown out and became homeless.

 

It wasn't as though the candidates were lining up to get to live with him either. When he'd posted that add on the internet, no one had answered in the last month he'd posted it. Only last week had someone finally wrote him about it and they seemed interested enough, polite as well. This should have been enough to ease Damen, but he couldn’t help but think they were a bit cold too, what with the way they wrote...

 

_Oh come on, Damen, it's not like you can judge someone's writing! You know that's the best way to misinterpret someone._

Not for the first time, however, he wished for one of his friends to have been available to live with him. It would have been the best plan. But as second years at Cambridge University, everyone was already paired up and settled in quite nicely. In fact, the only reason Damen was currently alone was that, when he moved in Cambridge the year before, he’d settled with a third year student he already knew. But of course, that friend had already graduated and, no longer needing a place to stay, left Damen alone and unable to pay the rent on his own.

 

Well, that sounded as though this outcome had not occurred to Damen, when it was far from the truth. Damen had made arrangements, of course. He _was_ supposed to have one of his friends living with him, reason why he had raised only enough for half the rent. The last year, knowing that his roommate was bound to be absent the next, Damen made plans with another friend of his who ended up in the same situation. It was perfect really!

 

But over the summer, his friend supposedly found other callings and decided to abandon university life. Something they'd told Damen in the _middle of september_.

 

Resting his elbows on the table and grabbing his curly dark brown hair in annoyance, Damen groaned, still mad at his friend. He’d been _fuming_ at the time, with reasons. He had not yet digested it and hadn’t talked to that particular friend since the last time he blasted his frustration on them.

 

Not that Damen could stop them from doing what they wanted with their life, but they could have at least warned him a little – ok a lot! – more in advance than two weeks before the semester! Now how was he supposed to find someone when everyone was surely already settled?

 

That was a month ago and Damen was now relieved that someone answered his ad, although he would not cry victory just yet. He knew he could not afford to be picky, but he had had standard! He would rather not live with his total opposite and there was a limit as to what he could accept. If the guy left his flat a total mess and it became unliveable, how was Damen going to be able to have a nice environment to study and feel comfortable into? No, there was a thing called self-respect and Damen well intended to use it.

 

His cell dinged once more and he checked if it was either Kastor replying or someone else.

 

_/cmon bro, relax. its gonna be fyn. plenty of ppl still look this tym around. not just weirdos, but maniax & obnoxious 2. lol/_

Damen scowled and was about to send a rude reply to his older brother, annoyed and already texting, when he heard the bell to the cafe's door gently chime in, indicating someone was coming in. Damen lifted his head, heart beating once more nervously, wondering if it was his ‘to be’ flatmate. It was around their rendezvous time, judging by the hour he was able to glimpse at once he checked for Kastor’s text.

 

The person he was meeting had given him a brief description of himself. It was helpful, all things considering, but Damen thought they could have sent a picture instead. That would have been easier. Oh well, not everyone was comfortable with the idea or even had pictures they wanted to or could send.

 

The description had been detailed enough that it should not be too hard to recognize them. Damen had to look for someone smaller than himself -- 5'8" -- with long pale blond hair just below his shoulders.

 

What kind of guy wore his hair long in this time of day? That also worried Damen as to what kind of person his potentially new roommate might be. Although that was a preconception and Damen forced himself to forget it. He would not judge until he met them.

 

When he spotted the young man entering, however, head turning each side of the cafe as though searching for something -- or someone --, Damen's breath caught in his throat, dark eyes widening in surprise.

 

This was certainly the guy he was waiting for; he fit the description for sure. But Damen had not expected _this_. He didn't know how he imagined the other in his head anymore, but he knew that it had to be very, very ugly compared to what he was seeing now, even if it had been handsome.

 

The blond took Damen’s breath away. He was _gorgeous_ , enough to make every head in the café turn to him. He was lean and tall enough, barely muscled but not to say he didn't look healthy. Quite the opposite; he looked enough in shape, back straight and shoulders squared. It was clear there was more that met the eyes.

 

His pale face was long and pointy and the long hair that Damen now regretted mocking framed his face perfectly. The golden strands looked soft to the touch and Damen embarrassingly caught himself wanting to run his fingers through them.

 

What left Damen speechless, however, were the other's eyes. Their irises were of an icy blue that pierced him immediately when they landed on him, like shards of frost, and Damen repressed a shutter. The guy was certainly imposing, despite his smallness.

 

Calming his nervously beating heart, Damen waved at the other to indicate that they indeed recognized each other. The blond nodded, approaching with deliberate steps. It was as though each of his movements was calculated and done on purpose.

 

"You must be Damen?" he asked as he sat in front of him, taking the hand Damen offered him and shaking it briefly.

 

Oh God, even his voice was heavenly. Strong and not too low, but rich and elegant. Damen thought he could detect an accent, French, he believed. There was that nasal-like speech to it he heard on other French people before. It was cute.

 

And the other’s pale hand contrasted so much with his own dark skin, it was weirdly exhilarating. Damen had no idea where the thought came from, but it was there, plain as day.

 

Maybe everything would be all right after all. He found himself wishing to get to know the other

 

"Yeah, and you're Laurent. Nice to meet you."

 

Damen offered a smile, hoping it didn't look too nervous or something equally appalling. It fell flat, however, when Laurent's eyes actually narrowed, as though glaring at him. It took Damen aback briefly, and he suddenly felt a closed off and irritated vibe from Laurent. It pushed Damen from that cloud he'd been daydreaming on, coming to a crash in reality. It was like a cold -- no icy -- shower had just dropped on him.

 

Damen didn't say anything, thinking once again that he was judging too fast or something, but it was hard to believe when the other kept staring at him like that, as though Damen had killed his cat. Damen gulped nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

"Sooo... you're interested in the flat?" he asked hesitantly, hoping the discussion would bring down that sense of unease.

 

"Yours seemed the most appropriate of the remaining ones. Although I would have wished for something else," Laurent answered, finally looking away, eyes gazing at the menu above the counter.

 

Damen could feel a vein pop. The hell? Who did that guy think he was? Suddenly, all lingering attraction came crashing down and Damen pursed his lips in distaste. Maybe good-looking was his only advantage.

 

"Okaaayy..." Damen trailed on. "Anyway, before we agree on anything, I thought I’d lay down a few rules for the flat so that our lives would be easier. I’m willing to discuss them as well, although to a certain degree."

 

"Hmm-hmm," Laurent hummed in acknowledgement, still engrossed in the menu, which pissed Damen off. It was as though Laurent was half-ignoring him now on purpose.

 

"First of all, we each do our share of the cleaning so that it stays a liveable place. I don’t expect the grand cleanliness and I know at some point, because of deadlines, it’ll become secondary, but if we follow it somewhat diligently, the flat shouldn’t become a dumpster.”

 

“Second, when we eat, the dishes are to be done immediately after, or not too long after, so that the other still has counters and dishes to prepare their food. It can be a hassle otherwise. There’s not room enough for you to bring more pots if you have any and there’s barely enough for the both of us to make different meals.

 

“Third, no loud music or loud anything that could prevent sleep or studying time from the other. It’s university, not high school, so we need that concentration."

 

Laurent simply nodded each time, looking completely bored. It kept annoying Damen to no end. Would it kill him to at least seem a bit interested? The possibility of Damen refusing him had not left the table.

 

"I also don't mind parties, of course, as I tend to do some myself. All that is required is that the other's warned beforehand if it happens, so that the date can be discussed or the other can make plans to leave if he doesn’t want to be there."

 

"That shouldn't be a problem on my part," Laurent admitted, now finally looking back at his future roommate, though with disinterest.

 

Well, wasn’t he all high-and-mighty?

 

"How so?"

 

"I'm not the type to party much."

 

Damen nodded, shrugging. To each their own, he supposed.

 

Silence settled between them, heavy and uneasy. Damen sipped his coffee awkwardly while Laurent took out his wallet after checking one last time at the menu.

 

"There is also going to be the payments to settle," Laurent reminded.

 

As he spoke, Laurent took a piece of paper out of his wallet and handed it to the other man. Damen glanced at it and realised it was a check with enough money to pay full rent for half the school year; meaning Laurent’s share was all there on that piece of paper.

 

"That should be enough to cover my share for a few months," Laurent said simply as though it were nothing.

 

Damen stared at the money for a while, then grumbled inwardly.

 

_Who gives all their share for the year in one go? Doesn’t he get that that’s not really secure? He doesn’t know me, it’s not like he trusts me. Pretty certain he's a smug rich bastard on top of it all. Guess he wanted a flat all to himself but there weren't any left, so he got stuck with me. Great. I landed on the obnoxious option. Just what I was looking for._

Damen wondered if he should refuse, try to find someone else, but his rational side enjoyed reminding him that there would not be any other options. No one had answered his ad except for Laurent and Damen was in dire need of a roommate lest he got kicked out of the flat. If Laurent was rich, well it was all the better for Damen. He would not need to remind nor nag Laurent for payment each month.

 

He hated to admit it, but Damen needed Laurent.

 

With an inward sigh, Damen was about to thank the other, but realised Laurent had gotten up to order something without a word, not even waiting for a reply to his bestowal of money. Damen's eye twitched and he grimaced briefly in distaste, wondering how they would fare together.

 

He sighed. How bad could it truly be? They would have separate rooms. Laurent also seemed like a very quiet person and he had not argued any of the rules laid out. If push came to shove, Damen could simply pretend the other did not exist. That could make a good arrangement.

 

Laurent returned a few minutes later with what smelled like strong black coffee. Damen finally got the chance to thank him for the money.

 

"When will you be moving in? Do you need any help with the unpacking?" he asked soon after out of politeness.

 

Laurent waved his hand in dismissal, sipping his coffee. Did everything he did look pretentious?

 

"At the end of the week. And don't bother yourself, you wouldn't be of any use," Laurent stated directly. "I prefer to do it myself and know where everything will be."

 

Damen thought another vein popped in his temple as he gripped his cup tighter, vexed at the other's words. Wow, so much for trying to be polite. He shouldn't have asked after all.

 

 _Come on, Damen, surely he's not_ that _bad. Maybe you've misinterpreted him the whole time. Try one last time. Maybe idle chit-chat will go better._

"So.... Laurent. Is that French?" he attempted hesitantly, uncertain of where it would lead him.

 

"It is."

 

Okay, this was going somewhere. He had an answer and for once, it sounded normal, not ‘higher-than-thou’. Damen had also been right about the accent. Maybe if he tried more questions...

 

"Why did you decide to study to England? Aren't there good universities in France?"

 

Laurent shrugged.

 

"The programs here are much better. Well, is this all? If you don't have anything more interesting to say, I will take my leave. I have other things to attend to."

 

Damen stared at Laurent in disbelief before his eye twitched again, his grip on his cup tightening all the more. He clenched his teeth, stopping himself from snapping. Rude! Why the hell was that guy even so obnoxious?!

 

Damen growled inwardly once more, reaching for something in his pocket that he handed brusquely to Laurent.

 

"Here's the key to the flat," he almost snapped, voice bitter.

 

If Laurent noticed the tone, he did not comment on it, simply grabbing the key. Laurent nodded, then seized his cup and left without another word, leaving Damen alone and fuming.

 

The latter grabbed his phone and started texting his brother back.

 

_/You were right. Its the obnoxious type./_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I come from Canada, Quebec to be specific, and our school system is... rather unique. So frankly, I don't have much of an idea how it works in other countries. I did my research as best I could, but you'll have to understand that there might some things that are off. If so, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll do my best to correct my mistakes. I want to learn after all :D Same goes for the culture!


	2. Mentoring

Just as Laurent declared, he moved in by the end of the week, and he certainly did not need Damen's help for it. It almost happened in secrecy, what with how fast it happened. Damen wasn’t even there when it did. He only was aware of the fact as he got back from his classes late on Thursday afternoon. The room that had been unoccupied until presently was now filled with a few empty boxes and a new roommate.

 

Impressed at how swiftly it must have gone for Laurent to already be settled in, Damen could not help but want to see the once empty room for himself. He managed to take a peek inside as he made his way through the kitchen to his own room, trying to pretend casualness, but Laurent popped up in the threshold, nodded at him in what was supposedly a greeting – without even a smile – and closed the door quietly.

 

Irked, Damen grumbled and got to his room, closing his own door as well, placing his bag next to the desk near the window. He grabbed the laptop, sat on his bed, sighed, and wondered what he had gotten himself into as he ran a hand through his dark curls.

 

_What kind of person even is he? It looked like he emptied all of his boxes, yet from what I managed to see, there was nothing on his walls and barely anything on his desk and shelves. It's like he doesn't own a thing! How impersonal..._

It was intriguing and it bothered Damen that he was so curious. Laurent had every right to leave his room the way it was. Maybe he didn’t want to get attached since he wouldn’t be staying except for the time of his studies. Maybe he was completely focused and didn’t want any kind of distraction. Maybe he was a frigid dick, considering how he had treated Damen up until now.

 

It was best not to get involved with Laurent. Damen had a hunch that if he got too curious, he would be swallowed whole into situations he did not want himself getting into. Curiosity killed the cat, after all.

 

Life kept its course, unbothered by the moving, and the days went by. Damen could sometimes almost conceive he was as alone as before. Laurent was quiet and kept to himself, barely leaving his room whenever Damen was home. It was a bit unsettling, and despite his own warnings, Damen found himself curious, attempting to find out who Laurent was. Over the days, in his investigation he hoped was subtle, Damen managed to either assume or deduce a few things about his new roommate.

 

For one, just like Damen, Laurent studied at the Ecomonics Faculty. Damen had once spotted a book lying around on the kitchen table that he’d recognized as an edition higher than one he had used the year before. He also spotted Laurent walking in the departments' building from time to time. Not that Laurent saw him, or acknowledged him. For all he cared, Damen did not exist to him.

 

Damen’s flatmate also was either very clean, bordering on obsessed, or he did not eat inside the flat, for no pots or dishes were ever out of place; whenever Damen prepared food for himself, the things he had used the previous time were always where he’d placed them. Not only that, but they were always spotless.

 

That, Damen could not complain about. It had been stated in their rules after all.

 

Chatting was not Laurent’s fort. Whenever Damen attempted conversation, Laurent was either answering with movements of the head or monosyllables. Damen was rarely asked anything as Laurent did not bother to get to know him in the least. Most questions were related to the flat or the surroundings of Cambridge.

 

Also, whenever Damen usually asked something personal, the longest answer he received was 'Don't bother yourself with it.' And that was when Laurent was in fact _not_ glaring at him.

 

Damen scrunched his nose whenever _that_ happened, wondering what he could have done for the other to hate him so much. Because that was obviously it; hate. Damen had never seen anyone look at him like that without there being contempt behind the gaze.

 

The more he thought about it, the less Damen could come up with a suitable reason.

 

It was infuriating, but over the first week of their newly flatsharing, Damen learned that it was best to leave his curiosity aside and simply ignore the other, as Laurent did for him. It was best for his sanity. Maybe that was all Laurent wanted, even. After all, whenever Damen spotted him at school, he would notice that Laurent was always alone. It was as though he couldn't bother to make friends.

 

His choice. Some people felt better when they were left alone.

 

The only annoying thing was that lingering attraction towards the blond, but the older male shut it down, concentrating on his studies and his work.

 

* * *

 

 

Damen was walking quickly in the hallways leading to his next class, roughly putting away a book in his bag that refused to insert itself through the others in his hurry, when he heard his name being called from the opposite direction. He turned his head, only slowing for the moment, and saw Professor Hestal, the Head of the Economics department, meeting up him.

 

Professor Hestal drew a few breaths as he arrived next to his student. The man must have been around 60 or so and did not seem to be much in shape.

 

"Damen, I am glad to run into you. Do you have a moment?"

 

Damen checked his watch to make certain, not wanting to be late.

 

"My next class is in ten minutes. Is that enough?"

 

"Certainly. I needed to know, first of all, if you were still interested in that mentoring position you spoke of the last time we saw each other."

 

Damen nodded with a small smile. In the beginning of the semester, he suggested he become a mentor to a first year who needed the help. Since he was lucky enough to participate in the experience the previous year, his previous flatmate having helped him through a lot, he decided it would be good that he return the favor to another. Besides, Damen enjoyed helping people. It also gave him the excuse of meeting new people. If Professor Hestal had found someone, then that would make his day.

 

"Perfect! A new student came to me just this morning, asking for some help around the department and the courses. I thought you might be interested, but I wanted to make certain first. I told the student to come meet me in my office at the end of the day, around four o'clock. Would you be free as well?"

 

"Yes, I'll be there," Damen replied excitedly.

 

The smile he received was warm. Professor Hestal was a kind man who taught with patience, kindness and passion. His course had been one of Damen’s favourite the previous year. His position as Head of Department also fit him well, as he was the kind of man that always was there for his students whenever they had questions. Everyone was lucky to have him.

 

"Very well then. See you this afternoon."

 

And with that, the man left, allowing Damen to get to class with a few minutes to spare.

 

* * *

 

"You have got to be kidding me!"

 

When he agreed to this, it had far from crossed Damen's mind that Laurent might be the one asking for a mentor. After all, the guy was practically carrying a luminous sign that screamed _Leave me alone!_ wherever he was.

 

As it went, Laurent was currently sitting on the other side of Professor Hestal's desk, another empty chair at his side, waiting for the newcomer.

 

Damen felt a chill run down his spine as he noticed the glare sent his way, the aura of distaste palpable in the air. He was apparently not the only one to dislike the situation.

 

The professor blinked at the apparent shock on his older student's face.

 

"I take it you two know each other?"

 

"We are newly flatmates," Laurent answered simply, turning back to Hestal.

 

The latter’s eyes widened slightly in surprised, not expecting such a scenario, but soon, he was nodding in approval.

 

"Oh, this is perfect then! It will make things easier for the both of you."

 

Damen, who had not moved from the office's threshold, frowned and immediately protested.

 

"Isn't there anyone else that could help him?" he complained, not wanting to work with Laurent who always stared at him in contempt.

 

He realised too late that his words sounded rather mean, but found he could not care. Damen did not dare think of how their exchanges would go if they worked together. It would be silences and glares and uneasiness…

 

No, Damen was doing Laurent a service by voicing his concern, that was all.

 

Besides, Damen had just vowed to himself that it was best if they ignored each other.

 

Laurent turned towards Damen once more and, with shock, Damen believed for a moment he saw hurt cross those icy blue irises. It was gone so fast, however, replaced with the usual glare, that Damen believed he imagined it completely. He must have been. Why should Laurent even feel hurt? He was the one who hated him without reason. If anything, Damen should be the one feeling hurt. Besides, they both didn’t want to work together, it was apparent! Damen was doing Laurent a service.

 

Hestal frowned in disapproval, crossing his arms on his desk.

 

"Damen, I didn't think I would ever hear you say something like this. If Laurent says he’s just moved in with you, then I'm certain you two don't know much about each other. It would be a good opportunity to get to do that while you help him. I will have none of that judgemental attitude in here."

 

Damen winced, suddenly feeling guilty, and he closed the door behind him, finally going to the empty seat to claim it.

 

"If possible, however, I would also like the possibility of having someone else. Is there anyone else available?" Laurent asked in that detached tone of his.

 

Anger flared inside Damen who had to control himself not to shake in rage, clenching his fists on his knees, looking down so as to not snap at the other. He realised it was hypocritical of him, however, but it bothered him so much that he had been right thinking Laurent didn’t want him.

 

Maybe some part of him wanted to be Laurent’s mentor?

 

Stupid. Damen brushed the thought aside, berating himself for it.

 

As for Hestal, he seemed surprised by the remark, yet even more disappointed.

 

"Has anything happened in the short time of your flatsharing already?" he asked, dubious.

 

Yes, Damen was so very curious as well. Had anything happened that made Laurent hate him so much? Why else would he want someone else so badly? Why else would he do his very best to avoid his flatmate?

 

_Why do you hate me?_

 

"Not particularly. I simply wish to have someone else."

 

The words left Damen speechless. For a moment, he couldn't process them, couldn't even think. He simply stared at Laurent, mind completely numb.

 

Then it hit him, violently, and it would have hurt as much if Laurent had punched him.

 

_Then why did you even accept to move in with me if you hate me so much?!_ He wanted to ask so badly, but managed to bit his lower lip to keep it inside. _You seemed to hate me the moment you laid eyes on me. It would have been easy to take the decision!_

It made no sense at all!

Professor Hestal's frown deepened and he rested his chin on his folded hands, deep in thoughts.

 

"I am sorry, Laurent, but Damen was my only option. All the other students who volunteered as mentors are already taken. Most of them were hooked up in the first days of the semester. I can always ask around the other second and third years, but not everyone is willing to give up free time for mentoring. It is time consuming, after all. Besides, Damen is a very good student. He would be an excellent choice, I am certain."

 

Laurent cocked his head a little, pensive, then shrugged.

 

"If you could ask, it would be welcomed, but otherwise, I guess this arrangement will do."

 

Damen wanted to explode. Who did he think he was, being all pretentious!

 

Damen stood abruptly, his chair creaking noisily behind him. He took a deep breath, calming himself enough to speak, and kept his eyes on his professor instead of Laurent.

 

"Well, if it's decided, I will leave the explanation of the system and of the paperwork to you, sir, if it is alright. I remember I had a book to return today and I have to go before I go to work. I will sign the papers myself later."

 

With a nod of the baffled professor, Damen whirled around and left the office, having a mind to not slam the door behind him despite the need to do so. If he was a mere convenience and last resort to Laurent, let him handle things by himself. Damen would not try to help in any way unless the other came to him.

 

Damen clenched his teeth as he stormed away, heart beating fast, feet heavy whenever he stomped them on the floor. He knew he was furious, but he could not understand why he felt so shaken. Why did he let it all go to his heart in such a personal way? It didn't make any sense! He already knew it was best if they ignored each other. They were not friends, Damen was not trying to become Laurent’s either. Damen made certain he pushed himself away from the guy.

 

So why was it all getting to his head this easily?

 

Damen was beginning to think that he would be unable to detach himself from this weird and incomprehensible entity that was Laurent, but he pushed the thought aside. He was too mad to even think about it and, besides, he would rather delusion himself contemplate the thought.

 

He left the faculty to go to the library, at least not having lied in his escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I get the both of them right. Laurent is so hard to write, I have to triple check myself everytime I make him do or say something. I also know nothing about Economics, but I'll do my best and do my research!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Dream

Quiet conversation was the only sound in the little pub, the place rather empty despite being dinner time. Damen was furiously wiping glasses he just cleaned behind the counter, still brooding over what had happened earlier in Hestal's office.

 

That damn brat! How dare he treat him like he was nothing? Damen felt humiliated and furious! Of course, he himself hadn't been thrilled at the thought of having to mentor him, but that didn't mean the blond could throw him aside like a rag then pick it up reluctantly with thumb and index, saying he'd use it after all even if it was clear it was the last thing he wanted to do.

 

Damen would show him. He would think of something to get back at the idiot. There was no way he would allow such disrespect and pretend it hadn't happened.

 

"If you keep drying it so intently, I think it's going to disappear," someone stated and Damen jumped, almost dropping the glass he was holding.

 

He hadn't heard the bell at the entrance announcing a customer. He was not too worried over the fact, however, recognizing one of _The Eagles_ ' regulars and also one of his friends.

 

"Hey Jord, how's it going?" Damen asked, putting the glass down and throwing the rag over his shoulder, flashing the newcomer a smile.

 

Smile that did not totally reach his ears, mind you. Too much on his mind. Jord seemed to notice as well, a gentle frown turning his eyebrows.

 

"I'm doing fine, but I can't say the same for you. What's on your mind boy?" the older man inquired, taking a seat on one of the stools on the other side of the counter.

 

Damen sighed, dropping the smile, and rested his elbows on the counter.

 

"It's this new flatmate I got," he started, another bout of annoyance flaring inside him at the mere thought of Laurent. "I thought it would be great to finally find someone to live with me and help me pay rent, but the guy's an obnoxious brat, all high and mighty with his fine features and that annoying accent of his!”

 

“I mean, it would have been fine if we consider the fact that he didn't talk to me much. I did the same. If we could have ignored each other all the time, it might have been bearable. But the Head of Department asked me to be his mentor today. We were both against it at first, since the guy obviously hates me and has shown it to me on multiple occasions. But he agreed to have me in the end, and he even managed to humiliate me in the process!"

 

"I’m sure he was gloating about it too, hiding a _lovely_ satisfied smirk,” he continued, accentuating the ‘lovely’ sarcastically. “This means that I'm going to have to deal with his constant hatred even though I have no idea what I've done. That's not something I needed at the moment," Damen finished, grumbling.

 

Jord listened to his story carefully, nodding or humming from time to time to indicate he was listening. When Damen finished, he crossed his arms, thinking.

 

"Well, that obviously sucks. But why are you saying he hates you? He's been your roommate for what... a week? How can you possibly know that's how he feels about you?"

 

Damen shrugged, pouting in irritation.

 

"I don't know, he keeps glaring at me with those pretty eyes of his whenever we make eye contact! We barely talk because whenever I try to make conversation, he ends it abruptly. He avoids me like the plague, and I got this feeling of uneasiness whenever we're near each other."

 

“Aren’t you exaggerating?”

 

Damen sent Jord a look.

 

“Trust me. No.”

 

Jord shrugged.

 

"Maybe you look exactly like someone he didn't get along with wherever he came from," Jord attempted, chuckling.

 

The other rolled his eyes.

 

"That seems oddly judgmental and unfair to hate me because of someone else."

 

_Although sometimes, I feel like I get those kinds of vibes from him._

 

"Or he simply wants to be left alone and doesn't like company," the older man supplied once more. “And he’s awkward towards others and he doesn’t know how to make it clear any other way.”

 

"Then why did he ask for a mentor if he'd rather be alone? I also can’t understand why anyone seemed to be a good mentor option as long as it wasn't me!" Damen complained, although not too loudly so that he would not bother what little customers there was in the tables' section.

 

Jord shrugged.

 

"I have no idea, then. I don't know the guy, so I can't say what could be on his mind. What did you say his name was?"

 

"Laurent."

 

"That doesn't sound English at all."

 

"From what I gathered, he's French. And now that we're talking about this, I realise I don't even know his last name either. Just to show how little information I manage to get about his highness. Oh, the joy we'll have working together."

 

Damen grimaced then straightened up, reaching for one of the glasses above the counter. He suddenly hated how whiny he sounded. He was not that kind of guy. He was a live and let live type of guy and usually, there was little that bothered him in others. The fact that Laurent irked him at the littlest things infuriated him.

 

"Anyway, enough about my problems. The usual?"

 

When Jord acquiesced, Damen reached for the bottle of scotch, filling the glass and handing it to the other man, suddenly with an exciting grin.

 

"So, what news do you bring?" he asked, eyes almost twinkling.

 

Shaking his head, Jord took a sip of his drink, then laughed.

 

"C'mon kid, you know I'm not supposed to talk about it!"

 

"But you always tell me anyway. It's okay if you don't give names!" Damen grinned mischievously, then frowned. "And I'm not a kid."

 

"You're 21. You're a kid. And all right, I'll give you the news. Let's see..."

 

Jord took some time to recall everything that had happened since the last time they spoke to each other, certainly looking for the juiciest stories. Damen was already eager, although he did take the time to check that everything was good with his other clients, not wanting to neglect his service merely because he took care of one customer.

 

"Ah, there's that one!" the older man finally said, looking pleased. "It's a bit crazy too," he added with a laugh.

 

"So, I was on shift last Sunday. I receive a call from a high school teacher who decided to do some work, so I grab someone and go check it out. When we arrive, she explains that she saw a broken classroom window and heard some noise while she was inside, so the ones who did it were obviously still inside. We grab her keys and I go check the window in case I see anyone while my partner goes inside."

 

Damen had a mind not to sit, knowing that it would not look very professional if he did and that he would not get up anymore either, too engrossed. Jord always had a way with words whenever he told a story. It hooked you to the point of no return, not until he finished.

 

"I see no one, so I go back inside the school, investigating on my own, knowing we'd cover more ground that way. For the moment, it's radio silent, so it's hard to know where our culprits actually are."

 

"Did they leave anything behind that could lead to them?" Damen asked, mind fixed on the story and the little details he was given as it progressed, searching for ways to resolve it before he was told the end.

 

"Unfortunately no. It's a high school too, so it's not entirely spotless. Teens also tend to vandalize whenever they want, despite the rules and restrictions."

 

Damen merely shrugged, wanting to hear more.

 

"So I make my way through the halls, as silent as I can. I end up joining my partner who signs to me to come with him because he thinks he heard noise from somewhere deeper in the school. We make our way through the cafeteria and another hall, then we actually hear laughter."

 

"Let me guess. Teens," Damen provided with a roll of his eyes.

 

Jord nods. "Yeah. At this point, we think they're only there to have fun or something, but we still have to be careful. We end up near what looks like science labs and my partner frowns at me with a bad hunch."

 

"Don't tell me they were using chemicals or something?" Damn asked, dumbfounded.

 

The policeman pursed his lips, giving Damen all the answers he needed.

 

“They managed to find the keys?”

 

“Apparently, one of them saw a teacher where he put the keys in his office and went to get them.”

 

"We found them in one of the science lab. There were four of them, three guys and a girl. They were fooling around with the equipment and, with the keys, found some chemicals. We didn't know which ones, so we had no idea how exactly dangerous they were. We didn't want to scare them and make things worse, but we couldn't let them play with those any longer. So I knocked on the door when we made sure we couldn't be seen through the window."

 

"You hoped they would come check it out or get stressed enough to simply put everything away."

 

"Yeah. Didn't count on the fact that one of them would simply ignore it. When another came to check, opening the door, he saw us and froze, not thinking to warn the others. That's the moment we chose to make our presence known to the others, but even if we didn't shout, still taking precautions, the guy who had a vial in his hands startled and spilled its content in the mix they were making."

 

Eyes widening, Damen groaned at the stupidity of those teenagers. They were obviously not aware of the danger it could truly create, or they wanted such a thrill that they ignored it. How someone could play with their lives like that was a mystery to him.

 

"We both saw it was boiling in a weird way, so I shouted to them all to get down and we both tackled the teens who were nearer to the mix, right at the moment it exploded. The mix was gone, but the roof was on fire and while our vandals screamed in panic, we managed to put the fire out after a few minutes. When everything calmed down, the girl and the guy who opened the door were still there, frozen in fright, but the other two escaped."

 

"They must have been scared enough to tell you who they were, though."

 

"Pretty much. We handcuffed them and brought them to the station after we talked to the teacher still outside, asking her if someone could come to at least make sure everything was safe enough. She took care of calling one of the science teachers while we went to question the kids. Once we had all four of them, it was decided that they would have to pay for the damages and do some community service in the school."

 

Damen huffed, shaking his head in amused dismay.

 

"Well, that could have taken a horrible turn. They were lucky they weren't hurt."

 

"You tell me. I can't understand that kind of idiocy. They told us they wanted to have fun. _Fun_! Go to the park, go shopping, go play games! Don't endanger your friggin' life!"

 

Damen rolled his eyes once more.

 

"I know, I can't understand it either. Anyway, do you have more?" he asked, checking if the other customers needed anything.

 

He saw someone raising his hand towards him, so he told Jord to wait a few moments to do some actual work. He brought them the receipt, almost certain that it was what they needed, then made them pay for their meal. He came back to the policeman once they were gone and he had cleaned their table, and saw that the latter's glass was empty.

 

"Refill?"

 

"You know it!"

 

Jord then started another story, one of tailing a thief this time. As he narrated it, giving a lot of details, Damen managed to guess the end before Jord could even finish. With a proud smile, Jord chuckled.

 

"Tell me again why you haven't joined police school yet?"

 

Damen sighed, looking away, avoiding the question by getting a few more glasses to clean.

 

"Oh c'mon Damen! You know you enjoy it! You always ask for stories and your mind always works furiously whenever I tell them. You're a natural and I'm pretty certain you'd be an asset on the field!"

 

Damen grimaced, knowing full well that Jord’s words were the truth. His heart yearned for it.

 

"Ugh, Makedon's given me the same speech," he complained.

 

Makedon was a friend of his, three years older than him. They had known each other for a long time, Damen always admiring him for doing the job of his dreams. In their younger days, police business had been one of their favourite subjects of conversation and they had dreamed of going together -- or well, as much as was possible, considering Makedon would obviously enter and finish before him. But Damen's dreams had been crushed rather quickly, leaving him bitter. Makedon always tried to cheer him up, to incite him to achieve his dream despite everything, but without any success.

 

"You know I have to keep the family business. I'm expected to do it. It's not a bad job either."

 

"Let Kastor do it. He seems to be enjoying it well enough," Jord insisted, certainly for the hundredth time.

 

Damen sighed, shaking his head.

 

"We're both expected to do it. My father's got this idea in his head that since we're half-brothers, we should both play a part in the business, to make things fair."

 

Jord took a sip of his drink, unimpressed.

 

"And what does Kastor say? Doesn't he want to run everything himself?"

 

The other shrugged.

 

"He never told me explicitly, but I'm pretty certain he's of the same mind as my father."

 

This time, the policeman downed his drink and gave the server his glass back, then took some money out of his wallet to pay for his beverages as well as to tip Damen.

 

"Well, I'll manage to convince you some day. Pretty sure I'm on the verge of cracking ya," he stated with a smirk. "I have to go. I’m working early in the morning."

 

Damen didn't say anything, but while he watched the other man leave, he thought bitterly how right he was and wished so hard that he could follow him. Instead, he kept washing his dishes, concentrated on his work, and reminded himself that he had a duty to carry.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, had to settle for school. Those lessons are unfortunately not going to plan themselves, ha ha! 
> 
> Thank you also for the kind comments! It's always appreciated :)


	4. Agreement

When Damen returned home after his shift, it was already very late. He expected Laurent to be in his room, as usual, either asleep or studying, so he made his way inside quietly, mind focused on his bed where he so much wanted to go to. Taking a shower might also be good. Although he should study as well.

 

Who was he kidding, he really had to study. The bed shall have to wait, much to his despair.

 

He was yawning when he made his way inside the kitchen, and so he jumped out of his skin when he realised at the last second that there was someone in front of him. Yelping, he froze, hand on his heart beating wildly.

 

Before him stood Laurent, causally leaning over a chair. There was a satisfied and amused smirk on his lips. Damen scrunched his nose. That brat was making fun of him now.

 

Yay... just what he needed...

 

"What do you want?" Damen asked, a bit rudely, wanting to go take that shower or even just go inside his room where he could forget all about his roommate.

 

The smirk disappeared replaced by Laurent’s neutral default expression; that unreadable one Damen hated so much because it left him wondering what it was Laurent was thinking, especially about him. Once more, irritation bubbled inside Damen’s stomach.

 

"I have the papers Professor Hestal left for us. I believed we could take care of it tonight so that we would not forget about it," Laurent stated matter-of-factly.

 

"And that couldn't have waited for tomorrow morning?"

 

"I was unaware of your schedule and I leave early in the morning, so I think it's best we take care of it now," Laurent replied with a shrug.

 

Damen groaned, rubbing his face in the palm of his hand tiredly, then sighed noisily.

 

"Fine. Let me just put my things in my room and grab a pen, then we'll take care of it."

 

Laurent nodded simply.

 

"It shouldn't take too long. I've already filled my part," Laurent supplied in what would have been a helpful tone for anyone but him.

 

When _he_ said it, it sounded all haughty and ‘mightier-than-thou’, as though he was so _proud_ to have already done his share. _Good for him_ , Damen thought, his annoyance fueled all the more.

 

"Thank goodness for small blessings," he retorted sarcastically.

 

Despite what he claimed, Damen took a moment to close his bedroom door behind him and breathe. What was it with Laurent and his ability to make his temper flare like that? Damen was better than this. It would not do any of them good if he kept snapping and it would only supply Laurent with ammunition. Might as well not give the brat the satisfaction of seeing him so rattled whenever he glared or made a rude comment.

 

And so Damen took the time to calm himself, breathing in and out, before he grabbed the nearest pen he could find and returned to the kitchen where Laurent was waiting for him, appearing bored. Damen grabbed one of the chairs to sit and began checking the papers for the places he needed to write, already knowing most of their content.

 

"So, why exactly do you need a mentor?" Damen asked, filling the parts meant for him.

 

"I won't require a lot. I know I can pass those courses hands down since I already have a good knowledge of the matter."

 

 _Then why the hell do you need me, you arse?_ Damen thought angrily, refraining from snapping it out loud. _Bragging obnoxious show off._

"But despite everything, English is still a second language to me. There are terms I won't understand. I also would like to have a good understanding of the teachers here and what they want. It will be easier to plan answers and essays that please them, while still retaining my point of view."

 

Huh. Well, hearing that, Damen couldn't do much but admit that, even though he boasted a bit too much, Laurent clearly knew what he was talking about. He seemed like the calculative intellect person that planned everything ahead so that things could go his own way.

 

For the moment, one of those plans was for Laurent to indeed pass those courses hands down.

 

"I guess I can help you with that," Damen conceded reluctantly.

 

He didn't add anything else, concentrating on what he was writing instead. He sensed Laurent sitting on the chair next to his, watching his every move, and ignored the goose bumps that travelled throughout his body. Damn, why was it that the other got such a reaction out of him? It didn't make any sense, not with the way things were between them.

 

Unless they were uneasy goose bumps. Yes, there couldn’t be any other explanations. It was creepy to be checked so thoroughly.

 

"While we discuss this,” Laurent started, “I’m right when I say that there must be some things you would like in return in this agreement."

 

This should have been a question, but it was nothing like it! Laurent was stating it. He was so certain of himself, taunting Damen with his self-assuredness, making it as though he knew there couldn’t possibly be any other options on the matter.

_God, why must he talk like such a prick?_

Once again, Damen bit his tongue to stop himself from saying the words aloud and revised them so that he could get his point across more politely, while he was given the chance to do so.

 

"Well, for starters, how about you stop glaring at me whenever you as much as see me?" he asked with bitterness, putting the pen down and turning his eyes to Laurent in order to stare him in the eyes.

 

The latter kept silent, moving his gaze away, also irritating Damen. But he had to admit it was better than the glaring.

 

"Fair enough."

 

Damen waited, but nothing else came.

 

"What? That's it? _Fair enough_? For fuck's sake, you're so infuriating!"

 

Laurent's eyes narrowed dangerously, turning to Damen, and the latter gulped subtly, a shiver of uneasiness passing through him. He pulled himself together quickly, however. No way he would let himself be impressed.

 

"What is it? Why do you always look at me like that? What have I done to you?!"

 

"Nothing."

 

Damen spluttered, feeling as though he'd been punched. No. Clearly a punch would have been less surprising. That single word meant that he was hated for nothing. This was pure, god to honest hatred and there was no incentive behind it! Why?

 

"Then why do you hate me?" he cried out, a last spark of hope reminding him that he was maybe judging a little too fast, that Laurent might have other reasons for glaring at him all the time and looking as though Damen was a sight for sore eyes.

 

What they were, Damen could not conceive them, but he could hope.

 

"That does not concern you," the other retorted haughtily.

 

The spark was snuffed violently. Those words were enough proof that he had been right all along. Damen's fists clenched violently and he shook with rage.

 

"Does not concern me?! Fuck you! I'm the one who's subject of that hatred, of course it concerns me! Why do you _hate me_?!" he almost shouted, but had the presence of mind not to do so because of the neighbours.

 

"I don't want to talk about it."

 

Instead of making Damen explode, it rendered him speechless, knocking the words and air out of his lungs. For a moment, he opened and closed his mouth like a fish, then any kind of emotion he might have had was shut down, except for hurt plain as day in his eyes.

 

He grabbed the papers on the table and handed them back to Laurent in a toss, completely done with this bullshit.

 

"Alright. Fine. There you go. I've answered and signed everything; it should be all in order. Come to me if you have problems regarding what you’ve mentioned, but for anything else, just _don't talk to me_."

 

He whirled around and stormed away, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

 

True to his word, Laurent stopped glaring at Damen whenever they were in the same place, merely ignoring him instead. He spoke less, just as Damen had requested, and came to his senior the only times he needed him to translate words he did not understand in his text books or to provide sentences that would suit best in his papers, and to ask questions about the various teachers.

 

Damen replied with clipped sentences, wanting childishly to make the other feel what he had endured whenever he attempted idle chit chat with his flatmate in the previous weeks. It was stupid and if it bothered Laurent, he never made a show of it. He never made a show of anything actually. He never smiled and his face was always that cold, calculated expression.

 

It was maddening. Damen was still the one getting worked up over all of this when he wished so hard that it could be Laurent instead. Ugh! He needed to let go already!

 

_/Youve gotta tell me your free soon!/_

Phone in hands, Damen texted Nikandros in hope that his friend would be able to squeeze some time for him. They were both very busy and he knew it, but it had been a while and complaining to his childhood friend might do some good.

_/Why? What happened? Are you OK?/_

Damen smiled, already a little relieved. Nikandros had always been the type to be a little protective of his friends. Despite their friendship, despite the fact that they both knew they were equals, Damen always thought of the other as a mentor as well. Nikandros had always been the more mature of the two.

 

/ _Im fine. Just the new flatmate that gets on my nerves. I cant take it anymore!/_

 

_/Ha ha yeah! Jord told me about it a little. Well, I have a day off tomorrow, do you have free time?/_

Well that figured... Jord was always the type to tease Damen behind his back with Nikandros. Damen rolled his eyes.

 

_/Ive the evening off. How bout we grab something to eat and go to your place?/_

_/Sounds fine to me. See you tomorrow!/_

Damen breathed a little easier after that exchange. It would also give him some space he needed by not being in the flat. Despite the two of them ignoring each other, Damen always felt his roommate's presence and it rattled him.

 

Putting his phone back in his pocket, he made his way to his next class. As he entered, Professor Paschal, who was already at his desk, waiting for the hour to hit, gestured for Damen to approach. Damen did as bidden, having an idea of what it was the man wanted of him.

 

"Hello Damen. I was wondering if you were still interested in helping out as a volunteer for the next conference that will take place in January?"

 

The brunette sighed inwardly, stopping the urge to groan. Not really, no, he would rather do a thousand other things instead of taking another charge on his shoulders that would only eat up more of his time. However, he did not have much of a choice in the matter. His father would be coming, obviously, and would expect his son to be present as well. Might as well participate as a volunteer, go to the conference for free and avoid his father most of the time because he was stuck in one room, rather than pay to go. He did not have the money for it and would not ask anyone either.

 

Not that he disliked his father or anything, mind you. On the contrary, he believed they were on good terms and he enjoyed spending time with him. It was just that whenever economics and his father’s company came to the conversation, Damen became frustrated. Not only did it drag on and on, he also could not care less about the subjects, and notably disagreed his place in said company.

 

But he would rather not disappoint his father and so kept quiet, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Hence why he did everything to avoid his father while still looking proper whenever there were opportunities for them to have such conversations.

 

So Damen smiled simply, nodding to the Professor.

 

"Yes. It's going to be interesting. Just say the word and I'll help you prepare what's needed."

 

"Perfect! I'll keep that in mind. I still have to get someone else to help as well, but thank you for doing it. It's a great help."

 

Damen's smile was plastered on his features until he turned his back to the teacher, discouragement replacing it immediately. He just hoped he would be able to keep his schedule fine enough for him not to crack from pressure, but with what was happening with Laurent, he couldn't be so sure anymore.

 

He couldn't wait to see Nikandros.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for the kudos and comments! It's appreciated ^w^


	5. The phone call

**Chapter 5: The phone call**

 

When his classes ended, Damen returned quickly to the flat in order to get a few things and unburden himself of his various books and notes. When he entered, he had not expected Laurent to be in the living room. The latter was reading one of his textbooks on the couch, a notebook on one side in order to take a few notes, a dictionary on the other, surely to get the meaning of words he could not understand.

 

Not wanting to be noticed, Damen tried to cover the distance to his room on tiptoe, counting on the fact that Laurent had not turned his head in his direction, thinking he might have been too concentrated to hear the door.

 

He should have known better than to count on his luck when he didn't have any.

 

"I don't understand why you would find the need to walk like that when it's obvious anyone could have heard you a mile away when you came in," the blond stated without even looking up from his book.

 

He flipped a page.

 

Damen stopped and grumbled softly, looking away, feeling embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

 

"Well, sorry for trying not to disturb you," he muttered grumpily.

 

If Laurent noticed, he didn't comment on it, returning to ignoring his flatmate. Damen should have been happy about it, but he could not help that feeling of disquietude, as though he actually _wanted_ Laurent's attention.

 

The thought alone irked him to no end and he quickly retired in his room. He threw his bag full of books on the floor next to his desk, disregarded like a rag, then grabbed what he came for and left, closing the door behind him. He made for the entrance, but was halted once more by Laurent.

 

"You're going out?" Laurent asked, this time staring at Damen.

 

For a moment, Damen was confused, uncertain if Laurent had truly uttered those words. They were so bizarre, coming out of that particular mouth. Damen wondered briefly he had dreamed it, but the way Laurent stared at him intently told him otherwise. Damen frowned, lips pursed in distaste.

 

"What, you're suddenly interested? What's it to you?"

 

They looked at each other for what felt like long minutes. It infuriated Damen how he couldn't read Laurent at all. The latter's face was completely closed. Not a glimpse of an emotion went through his eyes or lips.

 

"Nothing," Laurent finally replied neutrally, tone slow.

 

"Then why do you ask?"

 

"Forget it, you don't need to know."

 

Damen's eyes widened as he watched the other turning back to his studies. For a moment he was livid, and the only thing he wanted to do was to shout, demand what was going on and why he was always such a cryptic infuriating bastard.

 

But instead, he kept his cool and left, knowing he had far better things to do than this.

* * *

 

"I'm telling you, Nikandros, he drives me crazy! I don't know if or when I'm going to end up murdering him, but if this keeps up, I can't make any guarantees at all!"

 

Nikandros chuckled.

 

"Careful. You're talking to an officer here," he warned teasingly, meaning nothing by it.

 

Damen rolled his eyes, then slumped forward on the table, careful of the empty dishes before him.

 

"Why couldn't I just end up with a nice roommate who paid his rent, was sociable enough to talk to and might even become a friend? But no. I had to end up with an obnoxious blond who glares at me with his damn pretty eyes most of the time and who insults and embarrass me with his smart mouth."

 

That would be the cue where Nikandros chuckled or something, but when Damen didn't hear him, he lifted his head in curiosity. Nikandros was silent, staring at Damen with ponder. There was the beginning of a smile on the corner of his lips, but not the one Damen had come to expect. It was mocking instead of friendly and sympathetic.

 

"You know, I've noticed something from the way you talked about that Laurent all evening," he began, smile growing as he noticed the careful look his friend was giving him. "The insults and the complaints, I expected, but whenever you speak of him, you mention a lot about his physique. And not just his physique, but how nice it is as well. Jord told me the same thing."

 

Damen's eyes grew horrified at what the other was implying.

 

"Damen, could you be interested in Laurent?"

 

Damen sputtered, straightening up so quickly that he knocked his head on the wood of the bench behind him. Seeing stars, he groaned and whimpered while grabbing the back of his head with both his hands. Nikandros burst in laughter, clenching his stomach as he did.

 

When he calmed a little, however, and saw the murderous glare Damen sent him, he at least had the decency to look mildly concerned.

 

"Are you all right?" he asked, tilting his head from left to right as though it would help him assess Damen's state.

 

"No. How dare you even suggest such a thing! I'm not interested in him at all!" he cried out.

 

Damen turned crimson red, however, when he realised the restaurant was now silent, staring at him. Ashamed, he lowered his head on the table, groaning in desperation.

 

Taking pity on his friend, Nikandros patted his shoulder.

 

"Here, let me go pay then let's get out of here," he suggested.

 

Damen merely muttered his agreement, not lifting his head once, still too ashamed. Nikandros' words still resonated in his head, making his face turn even redder, if possible. What kind of joke was that?! He couldn't possibly be interested in Laurent when they both hated each other like that!

 

Could he?

 

No! Whenever they were around each other, all Damen wanted was to throttle Laurent. Give him a good shake to make him see reason There was no way it could be mistaken for any kind of attraction.

 

He only looked up, torn from his daydreaming, when Nikandros came back. They both left, letting Damen breathe easier.

 

"I was serious, though," the young policeman stated when they were far enough from the building. "Despite you being so annoyed with him, you still talk about how he looks a lot. Are you certain you're not...?"

 

"NO!" Damen shouted furiously, cutting Nikandros before he could finish his sentence.

 

He was still clutching the back of his head with one hand. It throbbed even harder and he winced. His friend looked at him with worry, this time all amusement gone.

 

"All right, I'm sorry. I just thought... You said he was blond and I know it's kind of your type, you know, what with Jokaste..."

 

Looking away, Damen sighed, taking the time to calm his temper. It was unfair to take it out on his friend, first of all, and it made his head hurt all the more.

 

He might need ice on that.

 

"Sorry. I shouldn't snap at you. It's just... I can't be attracted to him, Nikandros, that's impossible! He's so infuriating, it's becoming unhealthy! He glares at me all the time, what comes out of his mouth when we speak to each other -- if you can call it that -- belittles me, and... and he hates me."

 

Somehow, Damen could not stop how broken his voice sounded when he said all that.  The more he thought about it, the more he realised it hurt how Laurent treated him. Somehow, he wished things were different. He wished his flatmate would not judge him so quickly, would take the time to know him. But that was not was happening and it left Damen a little broken.

 

...Maybe Nikandros was right?

 

The latter watched him carefully, analysing the situation.

 

"Did he say specifically that he hated you?" he asked gently, apparently understanding the other's internal conflict.

 

Nikandros had always been able to read him.

 

"He didn't say the exact words, but that pretty much implied the same thing," Damen answered bitterly.

 

"That sucks," the policeman empathised.

 

Damen bit his lower lip, eyebrows knitted together. He could not understand this kind of pain, it didn't make any sense to him. All that he should feel was anger, maybe contempt at Laurent. After all that had happened in the few weeks of their conjoined life, there should not be place for sadness.

 

But as much as he wanted to disillusion himself, the fact was still there: it hurt.

 

Wait... That didn’t mean anything. Anyone would be hurt by someone constantly insulting them or making them miserable. Even if it was by a complete stranger. It didn’t mean Damen was attracted to Laurent, not at all. It just meant that he was tired of all the bullshit and that he wished it’d stop. Nothing more.

 

Besides, the mere thought of Laurent always left him boiling with rage in the end, and whenever Laurent opened his mouth, Damen only wanted to punch him. That couldn’t be attraction at all.

 

"Ugh! Look, I’m not interested in him. Sure, it sucks that he hates me for no reason, but he’s a brat who thinks he’s entitled to everything. I don’t even want to be his friend, so I sure as hell am not attracted to him in whatever form.”

 

Nikandros merely shrugged.

 

"Alright, sorry I mentioned it. Didn’t mean to get you in a pansy," he said with a roll of his eyes, the ghost of his previous smirk returning on the corner of his lips. "Let's go to my flat. We’ll stop talking about anything Laurent related to get your mind off him. Sounds good?"

 

Damen nodded, grateful.

  

* * *

 

Damen didn't go back to the flat until the next day, just before dinner. He'd stayed the night at Nikandros, taking the opportunity of forgetting about Laurent, then went directly to work. It had been very busy, so he managed to keep his mind occupied on anything else than Laurent as well, which did him good.

 

When he returned, the flat was empty, making him exhale in relief. He didn't think he was ready to face his roommate just yet.

 

He wondered for a brief moment where the other could be, but chased the thought away quickly. It was not his business and he didn't care anyway. He hated how Nikandros' questions still echoed in his mind despite Damen clearly stating that he could have no attraction.

 

Damen quickly fixed himself something to eat, too lazy to go get food at the college, then returned to his bedroom, deciding that plunging himself in his studies would help distract him once more. It did, until he heard the front door open a few hours later, meaning that Laurent was back.

 

For a moment, Damen was tempted to go see him, confirm that he was right, to prove Nikandros wrong, but strongly decided against it. There would be no point to it except rub salt in the wound, especially knowing how Laurent would treat him.

 

And maybe he was a little scared of what he could find out right this moment...

 

No, it was best to ignore his flatmate and keep getting angry and annoyed at him. That way, he would make certain that no feelings would be attached.

 

He would not get hurt in any kind of way

 

* * *

 

 

"Seriously? Why does this keep happening?"

 

Damen was incredulous, rooted to the floor as he saw Laurent enter the classroom where he and Professor Paschal already were. They had both been waiting for the other student the teacher found -- someone who apparently agreed to help with much enthusiasm -- and now, Laurent was the one to arrive, meaning that he was the eager student in question.

 

Someone up there hated him. That, or he had done something terrible in another life and this was karma.

 

Laurent seemed as surprised and unimpressed as him, which left Damen uncertain on how the other felt about it.

 

"Hmm? Did you say something Damen?" Professor Paschal asked, turning his head to his student.

 

The latter merely shook his head, not wanting to redo the scene Laurent and he had both made in front of Professor Hestal the last time. Professor Paschal merely shrugged.

 

"Anyway, Damen, this is Laurent. He is a first year student currently following one of my courses."

 

"We already know each other," Laurent cut right to the chase, voice neutral, eyes turned to the teacher, obviously avoiding Damen's.

 

 _Knowing's a big word,_ Damen thought bitterly.

 

That seemed to surprise Paschal who looked at them both, then he smiled simply.

 

"This is perfect, then. It will make things far easier. Work always starts smoothly and gets done quicker when students are acquaintances or friends."

 

Damen opened his mouth, wanting so badly to say that, in this precise case, it would certainly be the opposite, but decided against it. Not only would it not serve any kind of point, because they would have to work together anyway, but it would fuel Laurent with nasty remarks and he was not in the mood for it.

 

Professor Paschal kept talking, unaware of his student's current inner struggles.

 

"The conference is not until January, so we still have some time before we prepare the pannel in itself. For now, I will need you two to do some reading for me and report your findings that concord with my research. Damen is already aware of the basic lines of it, so he will be able to guide you in your readings, Laurent."

 

Laurent glanced at Damen briefly, but returned his attention to their teacher, nodding.

 

"There are articles I will need you to search for, articles of certain authors or certain subjects. I also have a few books that have interesting chapters. For now, I believe it will be plenty without interfering with your studies."

 

He motioned to the two to follow him to his desk where he handed them three thick books that weighted more than Damen’s bag on a busy day – and that was saying something – when they picked them. He also handed them an explanatory sheet of paper filled with the instructions, keywords and authors he wanted them to look for.

 

He explained what the keywords were for and what exactly he required in their findings. He mentioned the authors and what they usually wrote; what would be useful and what was not. He asked for brief summaries and quotes in the various texts they would find that should be highlighted in order to be easily found. Of course, the highlight was prohibited for the books.

 

Most of this work was usually relegated to students because the teachers had no time to take care of the readings. They had courses to prepare and other parts of their researches to take care of. It was then that students like Laurent and Damen came in. Not only was it a good opportunity for experience because they got to learn about specific branches of their program they would not get the chance to in their usual classes, they also were paid a minimum for it.

 

Damen would frankly do without this kind of work, but it was money and it would make his father pleased once he started working on the Professor's panel itself, even if as volunteer this time.

 

"I believe it would be best if you split the keywords and authors between the two, to cover more ground, but it would also be a good idea to discuss your findings together before handing them over to me. The more you brainstorm together, the more interesting the work."

 

The two students nodded in unison, then when it was obvious they had no more questions on the subject, were permitted to leave as their instructions were all given.

 

When they were out the door, Damen grumbled, once more cursing his fate.

 

"Why the hell do I get stuck with you and situations that require us to interact?" he muttered.

 

"It doesn't matter. We get the work done and that's it. There's no need to be childish over it."

 

Damen started, surprised he'd been heard when he at least had the presence of mind to try and keep his thoughts to himself. He thought he'd said it low enough to not be listened to.

 

But then, his mood flared and his face soured at the insult.

 

"What's with you insulting me each time you open your mouth to speak to me? What, do you get a twisted sense of pleasure when you do it?" he snapped.

 

Laurent kept infuriatingly quiet at that very moment, leaving Damen fuming. It was maddening how Laurent managed to find every small way to enrage him, either by the way he spoke or by his intentional silences.

 

He was the worst person Damen had ever met on this planet. How could he expect to even work in relative agreement with him?

 

"Fine, I get it!" he barked. "Let's split the work and get this over with."

 

The mere nod of acknowledgement left him livid, but he did not utter a word about it any longer.

* * *

 

"I have difficulty with the context of this sentence. Would it be possible to help me?" Laurent asked as he made his way into the living room, a book in hand.

 

His eyebrows were drawn slightly in puzzlement as he kept reading the sentence as though analyzing it over and over would finally permit him to grasp its meaning in an epiphany.

 

Damen repressed a groan, focused in his own studies, as he lifted his head to see his flatmate coming his way. The latter did not sit next to him, but handed the book when Damen motioned to have it.

 

"Is it because of one of the words or the whole syntax seems off to you?" he asked patiently, analysing the sentence in question as Laurent pointed it to him.

 

He also read a bit of the parts before and after in order to assimilate the whole context of it.

 

"A bit of both. There's this word in particular, but it has too many definitions in the dictionary. I believe I have an idea of what it could mean, but even so, it doesn't seem to make much sense with the rest of the sentence, so I can't be too certain."

 

Laurent pointed to a word in the middle of the sentence as he explained his problem, to which his mentor analysed it more closely for a moment more before explaining what was the true meaning of the word in this particular passage of the book. He added his interpretation of the general context of the paragraph, making certain he was right while reading the next one. Laurent nodded all the while, checking the words above his shoulder to grasp to entirety of the clarifications given to him.

 

Once he was done, Damen handed the book back, expecting his roommate to immediately go back to his bedroom without a word of gratitude.

 

He was put off to see Laurent staring at him, unmoving.

 

"What, do you still need me to explain something to you?" Damen asked with all the patience he could muster.

 

Frankly, it took a lot.

 

Laurent tilted his head, as though analysing Damen, barely enough, however, for Damen to question it, thinking he might be wrong. He was even surprised to have noticed it, actually. The thought immediately frustrated him. It meant he was observing Laurent a bit too much.

 

"Why are you so patient with me whenever you explain something?" Laurent finally asked, voice devoid of emotions.

 

Although... that was not entirely true. Damen was certain he could detect curiosity there.

 

Ugh! He needed to stop doing that!

 

"What, you'd rather I snap at you whenever I do it?" Damen said, crossing his arms with a mocking 'I'm-so-done-with-you' attitude.

 

It did not faze Laurent.

 

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

 

Damen sighed, scratching the top of his hair, looking away. Why _was_ he so patient anyway? The question was kind of relevant. Laurent drove him mad and the less they had to do with each other, the better it was. What had he even done to deserve Damen's patience in all of this?

 

"I don't know. I guess it's because even though you annoy the hell out of me, your studies have nothing to do with it. I also agreed to be your mentor, so it's my job to help you. No use doing it with anger or spite, it would only make us even more miserable. Which, frankly, I don't really need."

 

Laurent frowned, eyes slightly downward as though he had retracted into himself, analysing his roommate’s words. Damen waited, expecting some kind of retort -- certainly a mean one -- but when none came, he arched an eyebrow in confusion. Had he rendered Laurent speechless or something? If so, that would be a first...

 

Laurent closed his book, one finger inserted inside in order not to lose the page, then made as though he would return to his room just like that. Damen turned his gaze away, glaring at an empty space, tsking in displeasure. He was shocked, however, when he felt the other slip next to him on the couch.

 

Although to be fair, he was at the end of it, leaving as much space between them as he could.

 

"That makes sense," he admitted, looking at Damen with intrigue.

 

It felt like he was a puzzle to Laurent and that he was trying to determine how to solve him. It left Damen perplexed, but he also thought that the other way around was true as well. He wished he could know Laurent a little. At least make things bearable between them.

 

_Careful. You know where that could lead you. If it ends up being worst, you'll regret investing yourself._

He ignored the voice and put his own books aside after making certain he could recover the pages quickly, then turned to Laurent who showed no signs whatsoever of how he could be feeling. Some people you could read like a book, but Laurent was the stark opposite.

 

"Can't we just kind of start over? Don't you think it's unfair we don't know each other at all and we're at each other's throat?" Damen finally asked before he could stop himself.

 

He regretted them immediately.

 

"Why?"

 

The question resonated in his mind before it brought the usual irritation. Cold bastard who couldn't even find reasons of his own to find advantages to being on agreeable terms. Damen wouldn't put it past him to be too judgemental to care in the least.

 

But he put the thought at bay as he observed Laurent. The latter was calculating, eyes searching. There was no hatred -- or if there was, it was very well hidden. Maybe... maybe it was a misunderstanding? Maybe Laurent didn't express himself quite well. English was not his native language after all.

 

"Why? I thought the answer was simple. Because we have to work together on a few projects and it won't end well for us if we constantly want to kill each other. It would be bad if one of us ended up in the dumpsters because the other couldn't take it anymore," he joked, hoping it would lighten the mood a little, or that it would make Laurent laugh.

 

He did not even smile in the slightest, simply stared at Damen in silence. Yeesh! Did the guy ever smile? Damen could not recall a time he had seen him do so.

 

"I believe it fair enough," Laurent finally replied.

 

Was it Damen or was the other fidgeting? He must have dreamt it because the moment he blinked, Laurent looked as relaxed as he had been previously.

 

Damen breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging. Maybe now there wouldn't be that much tension in the room. Maybe they could start forming something that would permit them to stand on common grounds.

 

"Then let me go first. Hi. I'm Damen Terzis. My full name is actually Damianos, but it's a mouthful for everyone, so I just use the nickname my step-brother use for me."

 

He presented his hand in hope Laurent would take it. He was glad when the latter did and they shook to their new presentations.

 

"That doesn't sound like an English name after all," Laurent remarked.

 

Damen chuckled.

 

"No, you're right. I'm actually Greek, but my family has lived here for as long as I can remember, so yeah. That's why I don't have an accent. Now your turn."

 

Laurent stared at him, silent for a brief moment.

 

"I'm Laurent Aubry and, as you've noticed, I'm from France. Paris to be exact. I decided to come to Cambridge because I heard its reputation in the economics' field is renowned. I needed the best."

 

"Oh? Why is that?" Damen asked, now curious.

 

"Because I need to be more than ready to take over my father's company. I can't be anything but excellent in the field."

 

That seemed quite a lot to ask of a young man. Or was it Laurent who had fixed himself this kind of goal? Still, in order to do so, it meant that there was a lot of pressure coming from somewhere. It intrigued Damen even more.

 

He was also taken aback by how similar their situations were. Both were studying to take over a family business. What were the chances?

 

"Why is that? Isn't your father still running his company?"

 

"I..."

 

Laurent was cut short by a ringing coming from his pocket. With a frown, he took out his cell phone and stared at the screen, his expression only getting more confused when he could not see the ID from the caller. He glanced at Damen, held up a finger, and picked up the phone.

 

"Hello?"

 

Damen could hear the voice of the caller, but soon realised that the only thing he could pick up was that he was a man, because the words he uttered were rubbish to him. Not only that, but he was also certain he could not hear them all.

 

" **Mon oncle?** "

 

Laurent's expression changed, and for the first time in weeks, Damen believed he could discern what it was his roommate was feeling.

 

It chilled him to the bones as he saw the neutrality melt into calculated fury, Laurent's teeth gritting together, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

 

Before Damen could do anything, maybe ask if Laurent was alright, however, Laurent stood abruptly to retire to his room in order for his conversation to stay private. Not that it wouldn’t have, considering Damen couldn’t understand a single word being said between Laurent and the mysterious caller.

 

It happened so fast that Damen was left dazed on the couch. He sat still for a moment, wondering what had just happened. Who could be on the phone that would change Laurent like a whirlwind, the Laurent who had barely been fazed by anything thrown his way in the last weeks?

 

Damen knew he should pick up his textbooks, resume his studying, but he could not help it. Before he knew it, he was up and moving towards the kitchen table near Laurent's room. He knew it was bad to eavesdrop, but... It just shocked him with how upset his flatmate had looked. He had to make sure it wouldn't degenerate.

 

Later he would reflect on the fact that these were signs of worry and that he had no idea where they came from or why he had them. For now, he concentrated on Laurent's tone of voice, because he soon realised that he could not understand a single word pronounced in the other room.

 

" **Je vais bien, merci beaucoup,** " Damen heard, wondering what it meant.

 

Laurent's tone was clipped, attempting to keep all emotions at bay, bottling them up.

 

" **Je suis désolé de ne pas avoir dit que je partais, je me suis inscrit un peu tard et j'ai dû quitter rapidement si je voulais être à temps pour le début des classes.** "

 

There was more gibberish, followed by a prolonged silence, surely the other person speaking on the other side of the phone. Damen wondered if this was Laurent's father. If so, he found it weird and a little sad that his flatmate seemed so cold and distant towards him. Damen might not have agreed all the time with his own father, but at the very least, they had an agreeable relationship.

 

The conversation kept on, then Laurent spoke once more and Damen noted pure resentment in the other's voice, hidden with forced politeness, or so it seemed.

 

" **Je n'ai pas eu le temps de vous l'envoyer, les cours ont commencé très secs, très rapidement. Comment l'avez-vous trouvé?** "

 

Silence followed for another long while, then Laurent said what looked like farewells, and the conversation seemed to end at that.

 

Damen debated for a while whether or not to knock on his roommate's door in order to check on him, when the latter suddenly opened it before he could move from his spot on the table, leaving him caught red handed in his eavesdropping. Damen blushed furiously, but the color left him quickly when Laurent glared murderously at him, stopping in the doorway, hand gripping the handle so tightly, his knuckles were white.

 

A shiver of fear ran through Damen's body and he hated the way Laurent had such control over him. A glare should not scare him so!

 

"It's not what it looks like," he said quickly.

 

The way Laurent's eyes narrowed even more told him that it was obvious to Laurent he had lied.

 

"It's not like I could understand anything you just said," he tried to defend himself once more. "I came to check on you. You seemed upset by whoever called you. I wanted to make sure you were all right."

 

The smile that graced Laurent's lips was nothing but cold and ruthless. Damen could swear the room had lost a few degrees, but he would not let himself be impressed. He straightened his back, staring at Laurent directly.

  
"I am perfectly fine, thank you very much," Laurent hissed poisonously, smile – no, empty smirk – intact. "Even if you could not understand any of it, this conversation was not any business of yours."

 

Damen turned his head away. He had nothing to say to that, considering it was the truth.

 

"I'm sor--" he began.

 

"What, you're sorry? Keep your apologies. It's not like you even mean it anyway."

 

Damen frowned, hurt by the accusation. He wanted to argue, defend himself, but Laurent wasn't finished.

 

"You're annoying. You ask so many questions. That's one of the reason I initially didn't want to interact with you. Ugh! It's a bother just thinking we'll have to interact more than is necessary."

 

Mouth hung-open in disbelief, Damen's eyes widened, mind processing what he was hearing. Soon, he snarled, all traces of worry and shame gone.

 

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

 

"Nothing. You're the one who’s been nagging from the start. It's not because we're roommates that we have to be on good terms or something. I thought you would understand quickly enough that I'd want to be left alone, but it seems I have to spell it out to you."

 

Damen's fists clenched, his stance widening, his need to punch only getting stronger.

 

"I can't believe it! You're the one who initiated the conversation earlier!"

 

Laurent stood straighter, chin up in haughtiness.

 

" _I_ merely wondered why you were stubbornly patient, because I thought you were being an air-head. _You_ believed some nonsense that I was being nice. Or am I wrong?"

 

It took everything out of Damen not to punch Laurent right there, his self-control kicking in at full power. He would be the adult here. He needed to be, otherwise there would truly be a dead today.

 

"Fine. I get it. We won't get in each other's way anymore. I guess that's the only term we can agree on. We'll work on our own, interact as little as possible when we absolutely need to for our work, then proceed to ignore each other. I understand that's what you want," Damen hissed.

 

And as he returned to the couch in order to gather his things, ignoring the widening smirk on the other's cold, satisfied lips, Laurent called out to him one last time.

 

"Ah, good, he finally gets it. About time. Took you long enough."

 

Damen took his books furiously, stormed to his own bedroom, and slammed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I started work a few weeks ago and it took a lot of time. I wrote a longer chapter to make up for it :) Hope you liked it!
> 
> Here are also the translations of what Laurent is saying.
> 
> "Je vais bien, merci beaucoup," I'm doing fine, thank you.
> 
> "Je suis désolé de ne pas avoir dit que je partais, je me suis inscrit un peu tard et j'ai dû quitter rapidement si je voulais être à temps pour le début des classes."  
> I'm sorry I didn't tell I was going, I registered a little late and I had to leave quickly if I wanted to be there on time for the beginning of classes.
> 
> "Je n'ai pas eu le temps de vous l'envoyer, les cours ont commencé très secs, très rapidement. Comment l'avez-vous trouvé?"  
> I didn't have time to send it to you, classes started abruptly, rapidly. How did you find it?


	6. The Party

**Chapter 6: The party**

 

Damen plopped back on his mattress, head bouncing on his pillow before he covered his eyes with one arm, a discouraged groan escaping his lips. The textbooks on his knees slipped on the covers as he moved and the pencil case on the edge of the bed fell to the floor. Since it had been closed anyway, he didn't bother to pick it up.

 

It was no use. Even if he wanted to, his mind would not let him study in peace. He'd been reading the same sentence ten times over and he still couldn't tell what it said. Whenever he tried to concentrate, his thoughts led him to what occurred just a few moments earlier.

 

He hated this, hated how Laurent managed to slip between his defenses and find the very spots that would rile him up. It was as though his flatmate knew each of his weak spots and slammed them hard in order to get the best reactions.

 

Damen winced. Why was it that he reacted so strongly? He was a composed guy most of the time. He usually described himself as pretty chill and there was a lot that could happen before he even started reacting badly. But whenever Laurent spoke, his temper got away from him before he could even think about it. It didn't make much sense.

 

_It's because you're so interested in him..._

 

He ruffled his curly locks in a frustrated gesture, letting out a cry of frustration. This was stupid! He _wasn’t_ interested! And even in the unlikely case that he was interested, it still didn't explain why Laurent made his skin crawl and flared his temper like he was a child throwing a tantrum. Damen really needed to get himself in check.

 

And just when things started going well for once! He'd finally managed to get Laurent to talk about himself and the conversation was civilized, maybe even friendly! His roommate actually seemed interested in it, like it might please him that they were suddenly getting along – not that Damen could be sure because he couldn't read Laurent for shit, but he still believed so.

 

He was sure it would have gotten along fine before the stupid phone rang.

 

Damen sat up at the sudden realization and repeated the thought in his head. Laurent had been on edge the minute he recognized who was calling him. He fled in his room at that moment, not wanting to be heard, despite having a conversation that Damen could not understand a single word of.

 

If it hadn't been for that phone call – and for the fact that Damen had eavesdrop, he couldn’t deny it – Laurent would have kept being courteous, Damen was certain of it.

 

He looked at his closed door, pensive. Did it mean that everything Laurent had just said to him was a lie? Was he just so angry that he wanted to be left alone, and the only way for him to do so was reject Damen? That was rather... excessive, but Damen would not be surprised if Laurent was the kind of person that closed themselves to others in defense.

 

For an instant, Damen wanted to confront his flatmate about it, ask him if he lied and why. But the urge left him quickly as he reasoned himself. Not only was it not the time – Laurent was certainly still angry – but if it was truly the case, why would Laurent even admit it? He would either keep lying, probably insult Damen some more, then proceed to ignore him. It would do no good to face Laurent like this.

 

With a sigh, Damen picked up the pencil case, closed his books and reached for his computer. He still was not in the mind to study, but he had to find something to distract himself.

 

He would try to talk with Laurent another time.

* * *

 

"Hey, Damen!"

 

Damen turned around, seeing two of his friends coming his way. Damen smiled, recognizing Lazar jogging towards him, Jokaste following not too far behind in a slow walk. Damen's eyes lingered on her a little longer, watching her dark blonde curls swaying with the movement of her hips, her smile knowing as she watched him back.

 

The curls lingered in his mind, and a flash of paler blond replaced her hair. Soft straight strands he wished he could roam his hands in.

 

He was torn from his reverie by a slap on his shoulder and Damen turned his head to watch Lazar grinning knowingly at him. With a start, Damen realised what exactly he had been thinking about, and shook his head violently, horrified with himself.

 

What the hell?! Where had the thought even come from? Why did Damen think about _his_ hair when Jokaste’s were obviously prettier?

 

He had to force his brain not to deny it, calling him on his lie, which terrified him more.

 

Damen rolled his shoulder discreetly, returning his attention to the other beside him. The slap Lazar had given him had been a little harder than what was certainly intended.

 

Or maybe not. Lazar always was rough.

 

"So, how'd you find the party last night!" Lazar exclaimed, not broaching the subject of his friend's roaming gaze.

 

Good, Damen would have ignored him otherwise.

 

He grinned in return.

 

"It was cool. The punch could have used a little more spice, but the music was good."

 

Lazar shrugged as Jokaste finally caught up with them, her lips still pulled in that knowing smile. Her eyes were downward a little as she watched Damen through her eyelids, eyelashes long and dark, and she blinked slowly a few times.

 

She was obviously flirting with him. Not that Damen minded, thank you very much. He could feel a pulse of need, but he ignored it for the time being. They were in the street in plain view, after all.

 

"I liked our dance," she said in a low voice, which made Damen chuckle fondly.

 

"Yeah, I liked it too," he agreed.

 

"Ugh! Get a room you two!" Lazar groaned, but it was mocking.

 

He was actually amused, watching them both closely. He had interrupted the chemistry, however, the other two now watching him with twin grins, so he returned to the previous subject.

 

"I'd put someone in charge of the punch, and now I know not to ask for them anymore. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself after all," he said with depth, shrugging. "Anyway, even as great as it was, it was just a taste of what we can actually do. Midterms are coming. We need to prepare a party to celebrate their end!"

 

Damen nodded, though arched an eyebrow.

 

"Since when do you prepare parties?" he asked with amusement.

 

"Usually you just bring beer and alcohol, grab the first CDs you find and that's it," Jokaste added with a chuckle.

 

Lazar mocked offence.

 

"Are you saying I'm boring?"

 

The other two glanced at each other knowingly, exchanging smirks.

 

"Pretty much," Jokaste replied with nonchalance.

 

Lazar huffed, face falling in a 'I'm-so-done-with-you-guys' expression, making the other two laugh immediately.

 

"We're just messing with you!" Damen exclaimed through his grin. "You had something in mind. Tell us."

 

Lazar mumbled something that resembled _I'm not sure I want to tell anymore_ , scratching the back of his head, before sighing.

 

"Thought it'd be nice to have something big to get our heads out of all the extra studying we're gonna do because of midterms. Get all of our friends, sure, but also hand out a few flyers to get other people. Maybe have a cool theme or something. Make it something people will talk about for days, you know?"

 

"And where exactly do you even want to do that?" Jokaste asked. "It's not like the university will let you rent a room or anything. Besides, isn’t there going to be a midterms party in the college’s dorms already?"

 

Lazar turned his eyes towards Damen, who eyed him suspiciously in return.

 

"That’s why we’d hand out _flyers_ and get as much people as possible! Beat those crappy things they call parties.”

 

Damen eyed Jokaste with a twinkle in his eyes.

 

“He’s just jealous they’re better than him,” he said in a whisper, although purposefully loud enough to be heard by all.

 

Lazar flipped him the finger, glaring at him.

 

“Actually, Damen, that’s where you'd come in. You’ve got a flat, after all, instead of poor little us who live in the dorms. It’d be really nice to have a party somewhere else than the college. I’d wager that’d bring more people!"

 

"You know it's not that big, right?" Damen retorted, not certain he wanted a party there.

 

In any other time, he wouldn't have mind in the least, but it seemed Lazar wanted a few more people than he was used to and there was another factor to count with the flat now...

 

"Oh come on, I'm sure it'll be fine! Sure, we won't have the party of the year and we won't invite everyone on campus, but it could still fit quite a few!" Lazar argued.

 

Damen hesitated some more, weighing the good against the bad.

 

"It will be after the midterms," he thought out loud. "And won't be before a few weeks. I guess it would be fine to simply tell him."

 

Jokaste and Lazar both looked at him with wonder before they understood.

 

"Oh, you mean your flatmate?" Jokaste asked. "Things still not going well with him?"

 

"It's... complicated, yeah," Damen sighed, mouth pursing.

 

Since the phone incident, he and Laurent hadn't talked much. Not only had Laurent gone back to glaring at him whenever they made eye contact, but he came to Damen for help or work even less; only when there was something he truly did not understand or when they had to talk of their findings for Professor Paschal. Otherwise, they ignored each other, because of course, Damen could only feel bitter and furious at his flatmate's behaviour.

 

It saddened him whenever he had time to calm down and think about it, but if Laurent really wanted nothing to do with him, he could not change that.

 

"That sucks," Lazar said with a frown. "You're a cool guy. Why did he even agree to live with you if he hates you so much?"

 

Why indeed? Although Laurent might have acted that way with anyone else at that point.

 

"It's a mystery," Damen supplied, wanting to lighten the mood.

 

There was no need to show how much it affected him.

 

"Anyway, I'll just inform him and it should be fine to do the party at my place."

 

Lazar grinned, slapping him on the shoulder once more. This time, Damen moved a little out of the way to miss the hardness of the blow.

 

"Great! I'll start preparing the flyers then! You and Jokaste can start telling everyone we know. It'll be wicked!"

 

On that note, he left, leaving Damen and Jokaste alone side by side. The latter watched him from the side of her eyes and, not for the first time, Damen realised how small she was compared to him.

 

He saw that Laurent was probably the same size as her and he wondered briefly how it would feel to have such smallness next to him like that. The thought startled him, leaving him dumbfounded.

 

God, he was doing it again! Why was he doing it again? Was it because of Jokaste? Why was she even reminding him of Laurent? Just because they had hair the same color and similar heights didn’t mean they looked alike!

 

Ugh, it was all Nikandros' fault! Why’d he even bring _interest_ up?

 

"Are you going to be all right?" Jokaste asked gently, watching Damen carefully. "With him, I mean."

 

Damen cursed the fact that they were still talking about Laurent and, for a moment, feared that she thought he was interested in Laurent just as Nikandros had. When he looked at her again, however, she merely looked concerned. Maybe she would have brought it up if she thought so.

 

"Yeah. He ignores me for the most part, so it's tolerable. It just gives a weird atmosphere whenever I'm going home, but what can I do? He's the only person who ever contacted me when I posted that ad and I desperately need someone to pay the rent," Damen explained with a shrug, trying to look nonchalant about it.

 

Jokaste nodded. She pulled herself on the tip of her toe and kissed his cheek, eyes once more seducing.

 

"I miss you. We should do something fun soon, just the two of us," she whispered so that only he could hear.

 

He smiled, enjoying the idea very much. It would be a nice distraction as well. Would do him good about those unwanted thoughts he’d had for a little while now. Ugh!

 

"I'll think about it," he drawled, teasing.

 

She chuckled, smiling back, before she waved at him, leaving to the opposite side of where she came from, probably heading to class.

* * *

 

England was already a country with foggy and rainy weather, but once November hit, it seemed to get worse. It was the kind of temperature that could both encourage you to stay inside to study – because the minute it was sunny, everyone wanted to enjoy it while it lasted – or make you want to linger in bed, doing nothing. Considering how the midterms were coming and stress was piling up, the latter option felt always stronger whenever anyone reminded themselves they should do some work.

 

Damen was no exception. He worked hard, but would rather do anything else if there was the possibility. Some mornings he stayed in bed – although the stress of deadlines always got the best of him, pulling him out of the covers to go hit the books. He was running a little late for certain essays as well, and so missed one or two courses in order to get them done. He would ask someone else for the notes so he could know what would be on the exam.

 

Midterms went by in a flash and the moment Damen sent his last essay through an email at 11:59 PM on a sunday night, he cried victory, throwing his arms in the air. With heavy bags under his eyes, but with a grin reaching his ears, he knew he could finally relax a little.

 

And he would do so by going to sleep.

 

He wondered for a moment how Laurent had made it through his own midterms. He hadn't seemed that tired and always looked diligent, so he might have been able to clear them quite quickly, without much stress.

 

Lucky bastard.

 

Although that wasn't much luck but rather Damen's own fault for not being enough assiduous. No point in being bitter on something that Laurent had no control over while Damen had.

 

Sighing, he turned off the light and went to bed, falling into Morpheus' arms the minute his head hit his pillow.

 

* * *

 

"Wow! You really did manage to gather a lot of people!" Damen exclaimed loudly through the music.

 

He was surprised how many people had come and how many actually fitted in his flat.  It would be a nice reference for another time.

 

Lazar appraised the place with his eyes, a satisfied grin plastered on his lips, back straightened up.

 

"Yep! Trust me to make good publicity! And black light party is a rad theme. I mean, everyone came up with something that glows in the dark, it's awesome! Thanks for the decorations, by the way."

 

"Sure thing."

 

Not for the first time since people had started arriving, Damen wondered where Laurent went. He had told his flatmate that there would be a party on this precise date and that – it kind of pained him when he said it – he could participate if he wanted to. It was nice to celebrate after all.

 

He'd received nothing more than a haughty look as acknowledgement before Laurent proceeded to ignore him once more. Damen had left with a grumble, stopping himself from insulting the other as he went away. At least, Laurent had not thrown a fit or something similar at the news. It could’ve been worse.

 

When he arrived from school to start on the decorations earlier today, Damen had knocked on Laurent's door to see if he was there. There had been no answer, which either meant that his roommate was out or he was ignoring him. The former was more plausible, however, considering Laurent usually answered him even if it bothered him to do so.

 

Maybe Laurent had actually made a friend and he was staying there for the night, wanting nothing to do with the party… Damen couldn't fathom the other making a friend, not with his nasty behaviour, but what did he know about the guy?

 

No. Too unrealistic.

 

Damen took a sip from his drink and decided that he was done thinking of Laurent for the night. He agreed to have a party at his flat to enjoy himself. Thoughts of his flatmate would not help, quite the opposite. So he gulped the remaining of his beer and got himself another, wanting to stuff himself until he couldn't remember.

 

Jokaste joined them at that moment, grinning at him. A song they both liked was currently blasting from the speakers, so she grabbed his wrist to bring him to the temporary dance floor. Damen had pushed the table and couch away, so there was plenty of space for the people who wanted to shake their bodies.

 

The evening was going nicely. He was downing his beers in a nice rhythm, he was surrounded by people he enjoyed being with and the night was still young. Even so, the effects of the alcohol were already kicking in as he laughed louder, talked to more people and flirted plain as day with Jokaste.

 

Even Lazar was pretty far off. He was playing a drinking game with a few others, a third of the people here gathered around them to cheer and make bets of either who would win or who wouldn't be able to take it anymore.

 

"Chug, chug, chug!" they chanted in unison.

 

When the chant became applause and Lazar raised his arms, glass held by his teeth, Damen knew that his friend had won the game. Damen chuckled as he kept dancing, pointing the table to Jokaste, who in turn looked and laughed as well.

 

By then, the song changed to a slow and Damen felt hands sliding around his neck. He returned his attention to the lovely woman in front of him who was smiling sensually at him, pressing against him, her face so close to his to the point that he could taste her breath. They moved slowly, turning to the rhythm of the song. She murmured something in his ear, and despite not understanding half of it because of the noise around, he still laughed, eyes twinkling. He was about to say something as well, but his eyes caught movement and he raised his head, freezing on the spot.

 

Because of the music being so loud and everyone talking around them, they hadn't heard the front door opening and closing. Next to it, slightly wet from what looked to be rain, stood Laurent, eyes fixated on him. For a moment, they were both still, staring at each other, and Damen was half aware that he might not be breathing.

 

Then Laurent turned his eyes to Jokaste who was now turned towards him as well, curious as to why her dancing partner had stopped. Laurent watched the both of them, his eyes moving slowly from one to the other. It surprised Damen, but it was as though his flatmate could not understand what he was seeing.

 

Then the latter's eyes turned _icy_. He was not even glaring, but Damen could feel his heart stop at the gaze. He had seen Laurent stare at him with coldness, but never with such frigidity. It was like a spell for Damen had never been as freezing as he was at the moment. He felt breathless, as though blocks were crushing his lungs, and there was this _urge_ to explain to Laurent that it was not how it looked like, that he was fooling around, that it was not serious...!

 

Then Laurent looked away and the spell broke. Damen could breathe again and his inhibited state returned full force, reminding him how much he had drunk already. He realised he must be pretty far off if he thought Laurent might have been mad at him because he was flirting with Jokaste. He huffed a nervous laughter, keeping the nausea at bay. It was more probable that he was mad at him for the party not being over. Heck, the idea that Laurent might kinda find Jokaste interesting and would like to have her was even more plausible than him being angry of Damen's flirting.

 

Damen watched his roommate go straight for his room, avoiding everyone in his way. The problem was, however, that his bedroom was near the kitchen, where most of the guests already were, including Lazar. The latter seemed to notice the new arriver and, not recognizing him but putting two and two together when seeing Laurent going for the bedroom, blocked the latter's way.

 

"Fuck!" Damen exclaimed, turning to Jokaste. "Go lower the music."

 

Lazar wasn't a bad person per se, or a bully. He respected others well enough. But when he was drunk, however, that was another story.

 

Damen wasn't sure he wanted to see what could happen with the two of them like this.

 

"You must be Laurent!" Lazar exclaimed with a smirk, arms crossed against his chest.

 

Laurent stopped, eyeing the intruder dangerously, completely silent. It irritated Lazar who's smirk turned into a frown.

 

"Hey, it's courtesy to present yourself when someone's talking to you!"

 

Laurent's eyes narrowed further.

 

"I do not have to present myself if you already know who I am. Besides, you haven't presented yourself either. Now _move aside_. I would like to return to my room," he hissed, voice low.

 

Lazar managed to hear him as Jokaste had just turned the music to a lower volume, filling the flat gentlier. He moved his legs, fists at each of his sides, but his face told another story. His smirk widened.

 

"Well, aren't you a little special snowflake. All important and stuff. Wouldn't want to leave his majesty waiting to get to his room!" he called out and everyone who heard burst in laughter.

 

Which actually meant everyone in the flat, as all eyes had turned to the scene, curious as to what was happening. Everyone except Jokaste who merely watched with interest, Damen who didn't like the way things were turning and Laurent himself who had not moved an inch.

 

"I said move aside," Laurent repeated in what would have seemed a calm tone.

 

Damen could hear the threat in it, however.

 

"And what if I don't want to move? What, you think you're too important to hang out with the commoners like us? Little peasants, is that what we are to you?" Lazar mocked, earning him another round of laughter, encouraging him.

 

Laurent tilted his head a little, now watching his adversary with cockiness.

 

"Well, since you're so eager to admit it yourself, I don't see why I should contradict you," he retorted in a drawl, tone slow and patronizing.

 

Lazar's smirk fell slowly, his fists clenching tighter.

 

"Careful, pup. Wouldn't want to hurt that pretty face of yours, now, would you?"

 

That was enough. He couldn't understand why he'd let things go so far already, but Damen would not give the two the chance to come to arms. So he came beside Laurent, just a little more in front of him, and faced Lazar with a determined expression.

 

"Lazar, that's enough. Back off!" he said firmly.

 

That seized his friend who stared at him with wide eyes, confused and angry.

 

"What the fuck, Damen? You always complain about how he's giving you hell whenever he's around and you're defending him? What's wrong with you?"

 

"What's wrong with me? Laurent didn't do anything except go for his bedroom, _where he lives_ , and you're the one who searched for a fight. So what's wrong with _you_! Back the hell off."

 

Lazar made a disgusted noise and took a step back.

 

"Ugh! I'm out of here!"

 

Damen watched his friend go grab his things in order to leave, others following suit. Not that he minded. He'd rather everyone leave already. Party over.

 

He turned to Laurent, wanting to ascertain if he was all right, but was startled to meet with hatred – although why he was shocked, he couldn't understand. He should have expected it.

 

"Do you feel proud of yourself?" Laurent drawled, smirking. "Did you think I'd come to respect you if you came to my rescue? Or maybe swoon and fall into your arms? What went through that little brain of yours, I wonder. Is there any of it left, what with all the alcohol you drank tonight?"

 

Damen shook with both humiliation and hurt, but it was all hidden behind his mask of rage. He was about to hit the man, but was all too aware of Lazar snarling and rushing back towards Laurent.

 

So instead of satisfying himself and punch the infuriating blond, he turned around and crashed into Lazar, stopping him dead in his run-up. He missed Laurent's widening eyes, concentrated on Lazar instead as the latter backed away, stunned.

 

"I said _back off_ , Lazar."

 

"Damen, he just insulted you! He did it to your face. He's searching for it! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

 

Indeed. Why hadn't he let Lazar get away with it, taking the chance to throw a punch as well? His brain didn't make much sense as of late. Maybe Laurent was right and the alcohol had killed all the remaining cells in there.

 

"I won't have any fights in my flat. Now get out. All of you. Party's over."

 

Lazar grumbled, sent one last nasty look to Laurent who simply levelled it without a care – or it appeared so, at the very least –, then stormed away, others following him out. It wasn't until everyone had left except Jokaste, Laurent and him that Damen rubbed his face, feeling his face flushed and the fatigue brought by the alcohol.

 

"Well, that went rather smoothly," he stated without humour, sensing Jokaste now at his side.

 

"I never asked you anything," Laurent said, staring at Damen with that infuriating even look of his.

 

That did it. Damen laughed, but there was no joy behind it.

 

"You're right. Of course, _your majesty_ ," he agreed, bowing mockingly. "I apologize, I should have let you take care of it. How stupid of me to step in, thinking that you might need any help. I shall leave you alone next time!"

 

Laurent frowned while Damen smirked wickedly at him. Jokaste took a step forward.

 

"You realise you're the one who made matters worse when you insulted Damen? Everything would have gone smoothly if you'd kept your mouth shut. Even if you wanted to be rude and didn't want to thank him, it would have been better to shut it. It's your own fault things took a sour turn. You owe Damen an apology."

 

The end of the world would have been neigh if Laurent had apologized. Instead, he watched the two of them without a word. Damen expected nothing else.

 

"Oh, now you keep your mouth closed," Jokasted remarked bitterly.

 

Damen placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, silently asking for her attention.

 

"I appreciate your help, but I don't think it'll change anything. Best if you just go. I'll get some rest myself," he whispered to her with an unconvincing smile.

 

She pursed her lips, assessing her friend's statement, then nodded slowly, uncertain.

 

"If you say so. Good night, Damen."

 

He walked her to the door, and when he returned to the kitchen, Laurent was already back in his room. Ignoring him as always.

 

* * *

 

The tic-tac of his alarm clock annoyed him. Damen had told Jokaste he would go to bed, and he had, but as much as he wanted sleep to claim him, it eluded him instead, leaving him with his swirling thoughts. He realised, in his alcohol filled state, that he had not drunk enough.

 

So he returned to the kitchen, silently, and noticed with disgruntlement that someone had brought the beer with them – not that it had been Damen's to begin with, but he certainly wasn't in a state of mind to understand that. He reached for the cupboards instead and searched, knowing that there was bound to be some form of spirit somewhere in there.

 

He found vodka and let a small cry of victory. He wondered for a moment if he should dilute it with something else, like juice or soda, but before he could take a decision, he was already taking a gulp directly from the bottle.

 

He coughed as he made his way back to his room and drowned it with another swig. It was strong, exactly what he needed. Damen sat back on his bed and brooded, drinking what he had from the bottle far too quickly.

 

 _What's his problem anyway?_ Damen wondered bitterly. _It's not like I was mocking him or anything! I was only trying to help!_

Another swig, another cough.

 

_I'm sick of him and his insults! I'm sick of him treating me like a moron! I'm sick of him being a princy prat who thinks he's so high and mighty! That's enough! I won't stand for it anymore!_

Damen's thoughts were swirling in his head, but they were approximately all the same. He had enough of Laurent, and he would make the latter know about it.

 

Stumbling on one of the kitchen chairs, Damen realised that he was not in his room anymore and was already on his way to his flatmate's bedroom. Maybe he tried to be stealthy about it, he couldn't remember, but if he had, it was sorely spoiled by him crashing into the chair. Still, Damen got up and made his way to the other's door, banging on it. He didn't care if Laurent was asleep!

 

Or rather, his brain did not think of that concept before he knocked so loudly.

 

The light appeared on the other side of the door before Laurent opened it. He scowled, apparently not expecting Damen at this hour of the night, especially not with a bottle of vodka in one hand. That particular sight made Laurent squint in disgust.

 

"I'm sick ov'it!" Damen exclaimed, swaying as he raised his empty hand, index lacking the accusation as he pointed at Laurent.

 

"You're drunk. Go back to bed," Laurent said, his disgust all the clearer.

 

He made to close the door and ignore Damen, but the latter pushed on it before he could do it and stumbled inside. Damen had a thought that everything was still so impersonal in there before he returned his focus on Laurent.

 

"Why d'ya do all this t'me. Wha'd'I do to you?"

 

Laurent sighed loudly, sitting back on his mattress, not attempting to throw the other out anymore. In any other state, Damen would have wondered why.

 

"I already told you that it's not any of your business," he claimed, looking away.

 

"Bullshit!" Damen retorted, throwing his hands and splashing alcohol on the walls.

 

Laurent looked at the mess with a glare and made to rise, either to clean it or shove Damen out, but Damen moved forward, stopping him.

 

"It's m'bus'ness. It's 'bout me. M'sick of it!"

 

With a snort, Laurent sat back, crossing his arms.

 

"You're really not a smart drunk, are you?"

 

There were the insults again.

 

"T's'all 'bout that stupid phone call!"

 

That got Laurent's attention. His mouth dropped and he stared wideyed at Damen, for the first time seeming at a loss for words.

 

"I dunno who called. Maybe yur fathe-e-er or what'ver, but I dun care. We had a nice conversashion, we were civi-civa-cili... t'was goin good! But'ya had that phone call and then you were mean again!"

 

Damen plopped to the floor, taking his head in both hands, despite the bottle in one of them. It was hard to think what with how drunk he was, and yet the words were escaping his mouth as if he'd pondered hard on them.

 

He didn't see the softening of Laurent's face, nor the brief guilt in his eyes.

 

"Dunno what 'appened, dun wanna know, but I had nothing ta do with it. D'you have ta hate me or som'thin?"

 

Damen took another gulp of his drink as Laurent watched him carefully. His eyes were calculative, as though taking care of planning ten steps ahead before he answered anything.

 

"Why do you keep trying?" he asked softly.

 

At first, Damen was too out of it to understand the words, but his foggy mind miraculously registered them a few moments later and he frowned. Keep trying to what? And why shouldn't he? It was good to always try to get what you wanted.

 

"Huh?"

 

"I thought you would have understood by now that I'm pushing you away on purpose. Why are you still speaking to me? Why are you still trying to make things right between us?"

 

It was a puzzle to Laurent, it was clear on his features as he analysed his flatmate.

 

"I'd planned everything. It was supposed to be easy to push you away, but you keep coming back and back, despite what I do to you. It doesn't make any sense! The only reason I can think of is that you're some sort of masochist."

 

Damen chuckled, shrugging.

 

"Dunno ‘bout the masochist part, but I know I'd like ta be in good terms with my flatmate. I'nit possible?"

 

For a very brief moment, Damen believed he read sadness on Laurent's face, the latter's eyes a little melancholic at the thought of them being on good terms. Damen, however, soon conceived that he had imagined it for the other's expression was as unreadable as it had been previously, very quickly.

 

"No. I believe it's not," he answered at last, features neutral.

 

"Then it's sad," Damen said in disappointment.

 

"It is," Laurent agreed, nodding slowly.

 

Suddenly, a finger was pointed towards Laurent who stiffened slightly in surprise. Damen stood abruptly, although he did sway, the room spinning. He willed it to stop, but it didn't listen, so he ignored it to the best of his capabilities and concentrated on Laurent.

 

"Then I guess I'm gonna show you it's possible!" he exclaimed.

 

He was suddenly so determined. It didn't make sense to him that they could not have a semblance of companionship. He would try to make Laurent see that it was indeed a possibility. What did Damen have to lose anyway? The worst that could happen was for his roommate to stay the way he'd been for weeks.

 

"Pardon?" Laurent asked, incredulous.

 

Or, well, it might have been incredulous. It was hard to say with Laurent's eternal neutrality.

 

"I'm gonna make it possible. Just watch me!"

 

Laurent shot him a dubious look, mixed with mockery.

 

"I'd like to see you try."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, though it was also longer to compensate :) Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment if you did ^^


	7. Discussion

**Chapter 7: Discussion**

 

The sun was slowly rising, filtering its light through the bedroom's window where the curtains lay on each side, forgotten the previous night. The warm rays gently spread on the sole bed, basking its occupant joyfully.

 

It had, however, the opposite effect. A painful throb, followed by another, and then thousands more split his head in many pieces, bringing with it powerful nausea. Groaning, Damen covered his eyes as best he could, turning his body from the window, hoping to escape the damnable light, but it was no use. Minutes later, his room was filled with it, making it impossible to stop it from bringing unbearable pain.

 

He wanted to die! Maybe he could find something hard to bash his head in. That would stop the pain permanently.

 

Bad idea. Dumb idea.

 

He grumbled and did his best to get up from the bed, trying his best to ignore the splitting pain, reaching for his curtains to draw them shut. He breathed a sigh of relief once he did, but his head was hurting nonetheless. It was more tolerable, but not enough not to make him wish he hadn't stupidly drunk.

 

Maybe he wouldn't ever again.

 

Although... if he recalled, he hadn't drank that much the previous night. There was the party, the dancing and of course the beer, but if he remembered well, he drank enough to enjoy the party, not to be so sick in the morning! What the hell had happened for him to feel like shit?

 

There had been Lazar playing drinking games, but Damen didn't recall playing with them. He had been dancing with Jokaste instead and...

 

And Laurent had arrived, crashing the party.

 

Damen returned to his bed, head in hands, groaning some more. Ugh, maybe he should get up and get some aspirin or something.

 

Laurent had been there. He'd ruined everyone's fun. Obviously. That's what he did best, apparently. He'd been a prat, insulting Damen even though the latter had help. Damen sent everyone out and...

 

And that's when his memories went completely blank. He couldn't recall what had happened at all. Did it mean he went to bed? It was the most logical explanation, but it somehow did not sit right with him.

 

Oh God! He didn't go and drink some more after that, did he? He was such a terrible drunk, especially when he was upset! He wouldn't put it past him to have done something embarrassing in front of Laurent because of it.

 

_Ugh! Please tell me I didn't do that! Please remember!_

But as much as he tried, it wouldn't come back to him.

 

It was no use being stubborn about it. If he did anything, he would soon find out the consequences of it, he was certain of it. The powerful headache was already indication enough.

 

Damen checked the alarm clock on the nighstand and realised that he had to get ready soon if he wanted to be on time for classes. He was neither in the mood nor in the state for it, however, and midterms did just end, so it might not hurt to skip his morning course, at the very least.

 

Although if he wanted to get back to sleep, he would have to go get those aspirins, otherwise, his head would not let him get some rest.

 

He stood once more, painfully so, and got out of his room, muttering complaints about his state all the while.

 

Damen stopped dead once he stepped in the kitchen, however, spotting Laurent sitting at the table, eating breakfast, obviously getting ready for classes. Laurent lifted his head at the sound and stared at Damen's pitiful state; how pale he looked, how dishevelled his already unruly hair were, how there were heavy bags under his eyes...

 

All in all, how sick he looked.

 

A smirk made its way to Laurent's lips. The bastard was clearly amused.

 

"Look who showed up!" Laurent exclaimed nastily, loud on purpose. "Didn't think you would be able to get up, least of all make it to the kitchen, what with all you drank last night!"

 

Damen winced, his hands cupping his head without his saying. Traitors! He didn't want to show any kind of weakness in front of the little shite!

 

"Congrats!"

 

The remark was nothing but snide, showing no worry whatsoever for the other occupant.

 

Well, that pretty much proved it. Damen could not remember, but he obviously embarrassed himself in front of Laurent the night before. Damen wanted to groan again and wished so very hard to know what it was he did so that he could at least defend himself, but his mind was being a dick, keeping everything to itself.

 

Instead, he straightened up and made his way to the bathroom where he could grab some medicines. There was no way he would give Laurent more ammunition.

 

Damen hated Laurent. He hated him with a passion. The guy was nothing more than an asshole who thought himself superior to everyone.

 

And as Damen made his way back to his room, ignoring Laurent's dick smirk, he also put in the farthest corner of his mind that weird thought that Laurent's mockery was actually gentler than the comments he usually gave Damen.

 

* * *

 

 "Why'd you stop me last night? He insulted you! You tried to help and he smacked it back into your face without an ounce of gratitude!"

 

"I thought we covered it last night. I didn't want any violence in my flat. Especially not since _you_ provoked him _first_ , in case you forgot."

 

"I did it because he's given you hell! He proved it last night! Why do you keep defending him?"

 

Damen sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He was already tired of this conversation and how Lazar wanted to 'defend his honor' or something. Damen didn't need any of that and, as much as he appreciated his friend's sentiment, it would do him no good in his situation.

 

"I'm not defending him. I'm --"

 

"You _are_ defending him!" Lazar accused, glaring at him.

 

Damen growled, ready to snap, but held himself in check.

 

"As I was about to say, I'm not defending him, I'm simply not entering his game. He clearly wanted to rile me up last night, for whatever reason, and you as well. The fact that you jumped in only pushed him to play his game harder. He felt like he was winning. If I don't bite, he can't do anything to me and he might leave me alone."

 

 _If only you could take that advice from time to time_ , Damen thought to himself, unimpressed.

 

Lazar grumbled, unable to answer anything to that kind of logic.

 

"Look, Lazar, I appreciate the sentiment, but I can't help but feel you were simply searching for a fight. Laurent was just a good excuse because he happened to be a dick to me. That's still not a reason, especially if we don't know if he can defend himself properly or not. He doesn't seem the type to brawl. So either do something about that misplaced itch or don't help me at all."

 

The chair was almost knocked down as Lazar stood abruptly, glaring at Damen with irk.

 

"Fine."

 

And with that, he was gone, not a single other word leaving his mouth. Damen watched him, having a mind to stop him, but then again, Lazar's temper was as easy to flare than it was to quiet down. He would come back, once he cooled down.

 

Damen left as well, knowing he would have to get ready for work soon enough.

 

* * *

 

The pub was busy for a change and, being the sole waiter that night, he did not have much time for Jord who came to nurse a drink at the counter. It saddened Damen a little because he appreciated his time with the older man, but it was a gamble whenever they met like this. Most of his evenings at work were calm enough, leaving him short breaks to hear stories from the policeman, but tonight was too crowded for that. It would have to wait for the next time they met.

 

The bell at the front door chimed, announcing someone was coming in, and Damen winced, hoping it would not be another group or family. Since the place was small, there was barely enough places left and, besides, it was easier to serve one or two people at a time. Although groups were nicer for the tip.

 

"Welcome the _The Eagle_. How many tonight?" he called out before he turned around, reaching for the menus stored in a shelf near the door.

 

When Damen looked up, he almost dropped the menus in shock. Jaw slack, he watched as Laurent took in his attire, eyes a little wide, certainly as surprised as him.

 

They were both silent for a moment before Laurent seemed to regain his voice quicker, once more looking as uninterested as ever.

 

"For one," he merely stated, answering the previous question.

 

Damen still couldn't find his voice yet, so he merely gestured the other to follow him to one of the small tables furthest on the left, near the counter. As Laurent sat and Damen handed him a menu, the latter could not hold his tongue any longer, now that he had recovered from his shock.

 

"Are you following me now? What are you doing here?"

 

"Obviously getting something to eat, what else? And trust me, I assure you I had no idea you worked here. I have better things to do than follow you around all day," Laurent answered as he took the menu, opening it.

 

Damen scowled, irritated.

 

"I don't know if you'll find _The Eagle_ to be such a good place for you," he drawled sarcastically. "Maybe I should encourage you to find yourself someplace that would suit your _finer tastes_."

 

Laurent looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, unimpressed.

 

"Are you always this _nice_ to your customers? You might want to rethink the attitude, it's bad for the establishment."

 

"Thank you for the wonderful advice, I shall keep it in mind," Damen said with a forced smile. "I'll leave you to the menu. Did you wish for anything to drink?"

 

"Water will do."

 

It was harder to keep his forced politeness, but he merely nodded and left to the counter, rummaging. He barely noticed Jord watching him carefully, eyes following his form walking behind the counter to get the glass of water requested.

 

"Is that who I think it is?" the policeman asked, turning back to the shock of blond hair sitting alone further away, still checking the menu.

 

"If you're thinking Laurent, then yes, you're right. Meet my wonderful flatmate," Damen answered bitterly, filling the glass.

 

He didn't add anything else since someone was waving at him. He merely placed the glass on Laurent's table on his way to his other customer without a single word. Not that Laurent even thanked him for it. He was like a prince that was above all manners and believed he was due everything.

 

Damen took the customer's order and once he turned around to bring it to the cook, saw that Laurent was ready for him as well, signaling him briefly with his hand once he was certain they’d made eye contact. With an internal groan, Damen joined him, notebook on the ready.

 

"And what will you be having?"

 

"The steak and ale pie. Heard it is what makes this pub so popular."

 

"Very well. Anything else? You might have heard that the beer is also what makes this pub's reputation."

 

Laurent shook his head.

 

"No. I don't drink. Water is fine."

 

 _Wow, such a good little boy you are!_ Damen thought sarcastically. Thankfully, he kept it to himself. He was working, after all, and Laurent was still a customer.

 

"Very well. I'll have your order as soon as it's ready."

 

And with that, he left.

 

After he gave the orders to the cook, Damen took care of everyone else around, making sure to ignore Laurent as much as he was allowed, carrying plates, inquiring about the food and happiness of everyone, clearing plates when they were empty, and going behind the counter to prepare drinks when they were asked. He only broke off his disregard to bring his flatmate the food he ordered.

 

Damen noticed at some point that Jord was not sitting at the counter anymore, which caught him unaware. It wasn't like the policeman to leave without paying or saying goodbye to him, which meant that he was still inside. The bathroom's door was slightly ajar, so Jord was not there either. Then where was...

 

As Damen rotated his head, he finally found the older man. He was left speechless when he noticed where it was he was sitting exactly.

 

Jord was at Laurent's table. And they were speaking. Of what, Damen couldn't tell from where he was, the chatting of the restaurant too loud, covering their discussion. But watching them, the conversation felt civilised, pleasant even. It irked Damen who wished to go to them, demand what they could be talking about so agreeably, but couldn't as other customers required immediate attention.

 

Damen was furious. Why was it that Jord got to have a nice talk with Laurent while it took everything out of Damen to have a word out of his roommate? Why was it that Laurent was conversational, civil, _courteous_ while when with Damen, he unleashed nastiness and insults? Was it because they were in a public place, surrounded by other people?

 

Somehow, Damen did not believe it to be the case.

 

It frustrated him and it almost showed as he forgot to smile to the woman asking him for dessert. Her frown brought him back to reality and Damen made certain to redouble his efforts in his good service. Other people did not deserve his bad mood when they had nothing to do with it.

 

He managed to save his reputation and kept working, always glancing back at the table to see if things were going as smoothly as he had seen. Not that Damen didn't trust Jord or anything; the man was a police officer, so he clearly knew how not to take the bait and, even if he weren't, it was in Jord's personality to be so level-headed.

 

No, it was because of mere curiosity, wondering if he could catch words that would make sense that Damen kept checking back. However, he only managed to hear something when he saw Laurent's empty plate and Jord's empty glass, going to them in order to clean up – he at least had an excuse now.

 

"And what kind of company is it you're studying for?" Jord was asking.

 

"A wine company. It's very popular in France. There are a few vine-yards in the country that belong to us, so things are going pretty well. My uncle is currently in the process of purchasing more in order to expand our reach."

 

Jord arched an eyebrow, and so did Damen, the latter slowing down in order to hear more, thinking if he arrived now, the discussion would be cut short. He stopped two tables over, cleaning up the remaining trash left by the previous customers, eyes on his work but ears on the conversation happening further away.

 

"Your uncle? Didn't you say your father was the one owning the company? Or maybe it's a family thing?"

 

Laurent hesitated, looking away.

 

"My father... is no longer here," he merely said, voice low.

 

"Oh. I'm sorry, kid, I overstepped," Jord apologized, understanding what Laurent had meant.

 

So did Damen. He was shocked by it. That was the last thing he expected to hear. He couldn't explain it, but it really saddened him, enough to make him forget that it was really unfair how Jord, a complete stranger, got to hear that information from Laurent himself while Damen would never had have a single clue about it if he had not been present at the moment.

 

"No, it's all right, it happened years ago."

 

"So, that uncle of yours is taking care of the company until you can take over?"

 

"That is the plan, yes."

 

The way Laurent said it felt weird to Damen's ears. He wondered if he could detect a note of bitterness, as though even if it was the plan, things were not working his way.

 

Damen decided it was high time he reached their table – what with being done with the cleanup on the one he stopped at – and as he predicted, the conversation cut short, both Laurent and Jord watching him.

 

"Did you enjoy your meal?" Damen asked, nothing but professional politeness now, sarcasm gone. "Did you need anything else?"

 

Laurent shook his head.

 

"It was good. I'll simply take the addition, thank you."

 

With a nod, Damen was gone with the plate, coming back a few minutes later with the receipt. Laurent left the money to pay for his meal, as well as an extra tip – which surprised Damen –, then stood, extending his hand to Jord who took it and shook it.

 

"Well, it was nice meeting you Jord. Have a pleasant evening."

 

Then Laurent turned his icy-blue gaze to a gaping Damen, watched him for a brief moment, nodded at him curtly, and left the pub, leaving the waiter confused and with so many questions.

 

Damen could not hold it any longer and turned to Jord, face hard with annoyance, but also filled with curiosity.

 

"What the hell, Jord? Why did you go talk to him? How were you even _able_ to talk to him? What did you two talk about all this time?"

 

The police officer shrugged, handing his empty glass to Damen, signaling that he wanted another one. Damen grabbed it more forcefully than he wished to, stomping back behind the counter, aware that Jord was following him closely, reclaiming his usual seat at the counter.

 

"Don't be mad, kid. I was curious to see what kind of person he was, what with you always claiming how irritable and nasty he is. I admit he was kind of haughty, but..."

 

Damen glared at him, daring Jord to say anything that would contradict whatever Damen felt towards Laurent. Jord sighed, scratching the top of his head.

 

"Look, I'm sure you're not lying or anything, but Laurent seems like a good kid! We didn't talk about much, not about him anyway. We more like had small talk than anything. He was very polite! A bit creepy in some ways, but still, nothing that'd make him a bad person or anything."

 

Damen clutched the bottle he was holding tighter while he poured more whiskey for the older man. It enraged him how Jord got to have such a nice conversation when all he ever got himself were insults.

 

"Maybe he was polite because he was around other people. Surely he didn't want to make a scene."

 

"That's not the vibe I got from him, Damen, and I'm a good judge of character. He would have pushed me away or kept quiet otherwise. Sure, he's a very private person, but he wasn't _bad_ ," Jord said. "Not the kind of person to do something without a reason. Are you sure you didn't do anything to him?"

 

Damen exploded then.

 

" _You think I_ _did something to him_?!" he cried out, splashing alcohol on the counter as he slammed the bottle back, almost shattering it.

 

The pub became silent then and Damen realised what he just did. Rubbing his face briefly, he apologized to the customers with a nervous smile and grabbed a towel to clean his mess.

 

"No, that's not what I..." Jord sighed, bothered. "I don't think you did something, not on purpose."

 

"Yeah, because it's my fault anyway. I love getting insulted by Laurent. I simply _adore_ the atmosphere we have in our flat. It's wonderful!" Damen retorted in a hiss with sarcasm dripping from his tone.

 

"Don't be an arse," Jord warned with a frown. "Look, I don't mean to say that it's your fault, and I'm not saying that what he's doing isn't bad either."

 

Damen shot him a dubious look while he furiously finished cleaning the counter, handing the police officer his drink.

 

"All I'm saying," Jord continued, ignoring the look, "is that something happened and you might want to look into what it is. That way, you might finally make things right with that flatmate of yours."

 

"Thanks for the advice," Damen said sharply, returning to his other customers. "I'll do my best to heed it."

 

Even if he was being childish about it, the advice did make its way to Damen's mind, planting a seed there. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Jord might be right.

 

* * *

 

The channel switched, and the rhythm of his thumb on the controller stopped. Damen was watching TV, although watching was a big word; there was nothing interesting, so he was more surfing through the channels than watching anything.

 

He was aware of Laurent reading something, sitting at the kitchen table instead of being cooped up in his room. Why, that was a question Damen asked himself since the moment his roommate left his bedroom, but of course, Damen never dared ask it. Besides, what did he care anyway? It was Laurent's right to use the flat as he saw fit.

 

It was just that the tension made him nervous. He wished they would be rid of it soon, that unwanted tension. When would Damen get used to his flatmate enough that he would not care if they didn't speak to each other?

 

"Are you going to pick something soon? Or is this some new game I wasn't aware of?" Laurent asked, not looking up from his book.

 

Was the great Laurent annoyed? Hmm... He really shouldn't, but Damen found it amusing.

 

"Oh, you haven't heard? It's the new popular way to TV surf! You try to make the weirdest sentences by timing what the people are saying each time you change channels. If you end up on a channel where they don't say anything, you lose and you have to start over."

 

Laurent arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. Despite not bearing a smile, however, Damen could tell Laurent was amused.

 

"Huh. I've never really followed what was popular, so it might be me, but that sounds exactly like 'bored-guy-with-no-life'."

 

"Look who's talking! Made any friends recently?" Damen countered.

 

"Ah, but I'm currently working," Laurent merely said, brushing the comment away, showing the book he was reading.

 

Damen recognized it as one of the two Professor Paschal lent them. He sighed, closing the television.

 

"Is this a subtle way of saying I should get to work?" he grumbled.

 

"Who said anything about subtle?" Laurent replied with a smirk.

 

Damen shot him a glare and stubbornly stayed in his spot on the sofa, arms crossed against his chest. He knew it was childish, and he knew he should get some work done, but he was just not in the mood.

 

He was bored too. What else could he do? There was nothing on TV, he finished reading a novel recently and his friends were busy. He might as well hit the books.

 

Music suddenly filled the room and Damen recognized the ringing of Laurent's phone. The latter picked it up, stared at the ID, and his face transformed instantly. It bore the same dark and icy expression the last time Damen saw him answer his cell phone, the one that sent chills down his spine.

 

Laurent ignored Damen from then on, leaving his books on the table, and stood, returning to his room as he answered.

 

" **Bonjour, mon oncle. Comment allez-vous?** "

 

There was that word again, _mononcle_. Damen had no idea what it meant and wondered if it was a name. But as Laurent closed the door behind him, Damen felt that his theory was not right. Some of the syllables sounded a bit like uncle, so it might be the french word for it. Damen would have to check it up in a dictionary.

 

If it was Laurent's uncle, it was obvious that they were not in good terms.  At least not on Laurent's part. Why, that was a question Damen believed he would never get the answer to. Even if he tried to eavesdrop, he would not be able to understand a word of it. Besides, he'd learn the last time it was a very bad idea, and he had indeed been in the wrong.

 

He might as well go search for that word. _Mononcle_. He shut that part of his brain telling him that it was another way of eavesdropping.

 

As he made his way to his bedroom to get his computer, he heard Laurent raise his tone on the phone, getting angry at whatever his uncle – or whoever it was – was telling him.

 

" **J'ai reçu une bourse et je suis venu ici pour avoir de meilleures études! Que voulez-vous de plus?!"**

 

Damen stopped, once more ignoring that part of his mind whispering him that what he was doing was bad. He couldn't even understand!

 

" **Je fais mon travail à partir d'ici de toute façon et je serai de retour pour Noël et les vacances d'été! Cette position m'appartient déjà. Vous n'avez pas le droit de l'offrir à quelqu'un d'autre!** "

 

It was all gibberish. Damen decided to stop listening and go get his computer. It would be more productive and his conscience would feel better that way.

 

He returned to the living room, installing himself once more on his previous spot on the couch, and searched for the word he was so curious about, tuning out Laurent's argument.

 

After a while, Damen did find out that it meant uncle. And it was actually two words. _Mon_ and _oncle_. Laurent weirdly addressed his uncle with a possessive article whenever he spoke of him. Or maybe that was a French thing.

 

The conversation came to an end and it was silent afterwards. It was nerve wracking, even if Damen had not been part of it, and he was of a mind to open the television once again to distract himself.

 

Before he could do so, however, he heard a loud crash coming from Laurent's room, followed by a hiss. Startled, Damen put his computer away and stood, heading for his flatmate's bedroom to check on him. Damen had not made two steps that Laurent was coming out, left hand bleeding from the side. Damen's eyes widened and he rushed to Laurent's side in order to assess the damage.

 

"Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.

 

" **Ça va** ," Laurent muttered, attempting to dodge the other to get to the kitchen counter.

 

Damen frowned, not understanding, and so placed himself in Laurent's way a second time to try and grab his hand and see the damage. Laurent avoided him, glaring at him murderously, teeth showing in a snarl.

 

" **J'ai dit ça va!** " he exploded, taking a step back.

 

Damen sighed, decided to stop playing this weird game between them, and firmly but gently grabbed Laurent's wrist in order to finally see without hurting him.

 

"If you want to speak in French, you'll have to realise that I don't understand what you're saying," Damen explained, having a mind to assume Laurent might be so mad that he had not detect which language he spoke in.

 

Damen examined the wound and saw some pieces of porcelain, what might have been Laurent's lamp in his room. They would have to take out the pieces before rinsing the wound directly under the sink.

 

"I said I'm fine," Laurent finally uttered in English, attempting weakly to claim his wrist back.

 

"No you're not. There are pieces stuck in there and I don't know if you need stitching. I'll go get the emergency kit, so sit there, don't move, and keep your hand above your heart," Damen ordered seriously, grabbing one of the towels at hand and pressing it gently against the side of Laurent's hand, careful not to push the shards further in.

 

Laurent stared at him, searching him, but when Damen pointed him to the chair impatiently, he followed the instructions without a fight. Damen made certain that the hand was placed as he dictated, resting Laurent’s elbow on the table. When Damen was satisfied, he quickly made his way to the bathroom where he could get the kit and take care of that hand.

 

Once he returned, Damen grabbed a chair and sat next to Laurent. He took the pliers and proceeded to remove each piece of porcelain he could find. When the big ones were out of the way, he took the moistened towel he brought as well from the bathroom and cleaned the blood slowly, searching for more pieces in the process.

 

As he worked, he felt Laurent's eyes on him, observing him carefully. It would usually have unnerved him to be stared at so intently, but Damen was too focused in taking care of the hand.

 

" **Pourquoi fais-tu tout ça pour moi? Je ne comprends pas** ," he murmured in french, certainly on purpose this time.

 

Probably because he didn’t want an actual answer. He certainly didn't count on the fact that Damen might know a few words.

 

"Oh, I’ve heard that word before. You asked why. I don't know why what, but I might have an idea," Damen said, gaze fixed on the wound. "We might not agree at all, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to help when you need it. You're wounded and it's simpler to have someone look at it. Besides, I know first aid, so I have to use it whenever someone's in need of it."

 

Laurent looked offended. He lowered his head, resting it in the palm of his good hand, gritting his teeth.

 

“If you’d like, think of it this way. It’s not personal, I’m not doing it for you, but because I have an obligation,” Damen said.

 

He hated the taste of the words in his mouth, but he knew it was best this way.

 

Laurent was silent, now stubbornly avoiding Damen’s sight. It was a change of pace from their usual interactions; Laurent usually watched him all the time. Somehow, Damen found it even more unnerving than being observed. It felt as though, as unreadable Laurent was, Damen could not deduce a single thing of his flatmate. Laurent’s body language was in even more control than his eyes.

 

“Are you all right?” Damen whispered.

 

It surprised him, how the words left his mouth without his notice. He should not have asked that, he _did not_ _want_ to ask that! That was Laurent’s life, the one he was guarding preciously and in which Damen was obviously pushed from – Laurent had made sure he knew many times. And yet Damen found himself trying harder each and every time, despite the various disappointments and frustration.

 

He was beginning to believe he was a masochist.

 

Laurent lifted his eyes enough to reveal his glare.

 

“Of course I’m not all right, my hand is bleeding and _you_ are taking care of it. Are you stupid?”

 

The bristling feeling of anger twitched in his bones and crawled through his skin. Damen pulled out another piece of shard, harder than the last times, and took a twisted satisfied sense of pleasure in the formed hiss of pain.

 

“Hey, careful!” Laurent snapped.

 

“Oops, sorry,” Damen retaliated with a shrug.

 

Guilt made its way through the anger however, Damen recognizing how childish this was. He forced himself to calm down, removing the scowl and the nasty attitude from his face.

 

“You know what I meant,” he attempted once more, this time careful in his shard removal.

 

“I’m fine,” Laurent retorted, sounding both irritated and bored.

 

His free arm was resting on the table, hand cupping his chin. He was once more avoiding Damen.

 

Maybe he was trying to compensate for the display of emotion, but had a difficult time doing it.

 

“I don’t think you are.”

 

Laurent snapped his head back to Damen and scrunched his nose in distaste. He looked insulted.

 

"What, you pretend to know how I feel now?" Laurent spat.

 

Damen took Laurent’s wrist, lifted the latter’s arm and indicated the wound as an obvious sign.

 

“I don’t think anyone who’s fine would’ve done this.”

 

“Great, you’ve decided to appoint yourself as my makeshift therapist. This does not concern you. Stay out of it.”

 

Laurent sniffed in disgust, his mood irritable. Every fiber of his body told Damen to shut up and keep treating the wound so that he could leave soon and stop enduring this drawling horrible nonsense.

 

Damen chose to ignore it.

 

“Maybe it doesn’t concern me. But I know that if you keep all that to yourself, you’ll eventually explode. It can’t be good for you.”

 

Damen started as Laurent burst out laughing. It was nothing joyous, however, instead sarcastic and full of contempt.

 

"Aren't you full of yourself!,” Laurent exclaimed. “Is this making you happy? Analysing me like this? Makes you feel all high and mighty? Please continue, I'm curious to see what bullshit you'll spout."

 

Damen easily raised to the bait, feeling it harder to control the anger now.

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m only trying to help here. Why do you always feel the need to look down on me?

 

Laurent lifted his chin and straightened his shoulders, smirk widening. He approached Damen so that they were mere inches apart. And despite Laurent being smaller than him, it resembled nothing else but Laurent looking down on him.

 

"Because I don’t need your help. I believe it’s not the first time I tell you this either. I am quite capable of doing everything on my own. You assume that I am not doing well when it's the complete opposite."

 

And in that moment, all Damen could do was pity Laurent. How sad a life could be if there was no one in it to share it.

 

"Maybe you're right,” Damen said. “Maybe I'm over reading this. Good for you then. But the way I’m seeing it, maybe you just want to look strong because you don't know how else you'd survive. Maybe you need to look strong for whatever happens in your life. And it’s not a bad thing. But if you only look the part and you're not feeling it, sooner or later, it will all come crumbling down."

 

Laurent was silent, insulted, but Damen couldn’t help but think Laurent was pondering on his words. If so, this was a good sign.

 

The latter was finishing examining the wound for any shards left and, when he was satisfied that there were not any left, proceeded to clean the wound completely to see how deep it was. He was relieved to find it shallower than he previously believed. It would not need any stitches.

 

Damen removed the blood, then applied antiseptic on the wound before grabbing some bandages.

 

He tried another tactic.

 

"Maybe you should talk to your uncle."

 

Laurent froze. His whole body tensed like a spring.

 

"Pardon?" he murmured, iciness staring into Damen's soul.

 

The latter managed not to gulp and keep a straight face while bandaging Laurent's hand. Every fiber of his being screamed of how wrong a turn he was taking, that he should apologize and say he had gone too far. But Damen’s mouth was too big recently and it kept going.

 

"That's who you were talking just moments ago, isn't it? The one who gets you in such a state. Maybe you should be talking to him, explain whatever angers you when you two speak."

 

The moment Damen finished with the bandages, Laurent harshly reclaimed his hand and stood abruptly. There was pure hate in his eyes now, not mere irritation.

 

"I would keep my advices to myself, if I were you," Laurent hissed in a low, scary voice. "I don't need anyone, certainly not _you_ , butting in into my personal life."

 

Without as much as a thank you, Laurent was gone, slamming his bedroom door behind him. Damen watched where his flatmate had stood a second ago, then grabbed the sides of his head in both hands, groaning at his own stupidity.

 

Of course he had to say the wrong thing. Nice going Damen. Now there was no chance Laurent would even want to talk to him.

 

As he slowly began to put away the items back in the first aid kit, Damen wondered how he would fix it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you'd want to know what Laurent was saying...
> 
> "Hello uncle. How are you?"
> 
> "I received a scholarship and came here to have better studies! What else do you want?!"
> 
> "I'm doing my work from here anyway and I'll be back for Christmas and summer vacations! This position belongs to me. You can't offer it to someone else!"
> 
> "Why do you do this for me? I don't understand."
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, hi guys! Late chapter again, sorry. Still, I've made up for it for it's length? :) I'm also really, really proud of that chapter, so tell me what you think!
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos and comments! It's deeply appreciated ^w^


	8. Unwanted visit

Cambridge city was brightly lit by the sun, a rare sight, especially in such a time like mid-fall. It was a nice change of pace from the usual gloominess of the fog and rain, and students were popping out of school buildings in order to take advantage of the much needed light. It was a hard time for the mind, what with finals that would soon roll up. Bodies were deprived of light, so it was best to soak in it when it was offered.

 

Damen was no exception. His afternoon class had been cancelled, so he decided to study outside the Department, books sprawled on a picnic table.

 

He managed to do a good portion of an essay due in a week and a half, taking notes, checking in his textbooks. A lot of the time, however, he found his mind wandering elsewhere.

 

Namely Laurent.

 

_What was his problem anyway?_

Damen hadn't meant any harm when he suggested that Laurent speak to his uncle about what disturbed him. There had been no need to get in such a pansy!

 

 _That really wasn’t your business, though,_ he reminded himself remorsefully.

 

But still! Damen only wanted to help. Even though Laurent claimed he was doing well on his own, Damen could not shake the feeling that his roommate actually needed someone.

 

 _And yet he rejects you every single time_.

 

There was no use with that guy. As much as Damen wanted to do something, as much as he gave up his energy to help, it did no good whatsoever. Laurent would _always_ hate him no matter what, especially after that stunt Damen pulled. Most of all, Laurent would do everything for Damen not to get close.

 

So why did Damen feel such disappointment? It wasn't as though he enjoyed the guy either. Laurent had made it clear multiple times that no kind of agreeable relationship was possible, but each and every time, Damen didn't seem to get the memo.

 

He could even sense a part of himself wanting to try harder despite all that had happened already. Seriously, he must have some kind of subconscious death wish. He could not find a single other reason for his masochism.

 

Sensing that there would be no more studying possible, his mind wandering everywhere except on his books, Damen gave up for the afternoon and put everything away in his bag. He adjusted it on his shoulder and headed back for the flat, appreciating the warm sun on his face contrasting with the cold weather.

 

There was another flash of Laurent and Damen pushed the thought aside, stopped all trains of thoughts regarding him. He was tired of contemplating about Laurent. He was tired _of_ Laurent. Damen wished he could return to a simpler life when the man was not in it.

 

It seemed, however, that fate would not grant him that much. As he returned home, irony slammed Damen as he spotted the very same person he sought to avoid in the street further ahead of him. Laurent was probably returning to the flat as well.

 

Damen groaned. The last thing he wanted was to deal with this shit.

 

Fearing that if they arrived at the flat at the same moment, it would be nothing less than the apocalypse, Damen turned around to leave in another direction. He had no idea where, as long as it wasn't near Laurent. Anywhere was fine.

 

But as he turned around, he first heard the characteristic noise of a speeding car. Just as so, a black car – what looked to be a Toyota with tainted screens that prevented from seeing inside – was speeding in their directions, not minding the stops or any kind of circulation signal.

 

With a sense of dread, Damen whirled his head around – briefly noting that there was no one in the street except for that car, Laurent and him – and saw Laurent making his way to cross the street, engrossed in a few papers he was reading.

 

He didn't know if he was right, but Damen had a hunch that the car was aiming specifically for Laurent, that this was all staged. What Damen did know was that, at this rate, if he remained there, Laurent was done for.

 

Without thinking any longer, Damen sprinted towards his flatmate, the car still behind him, hoping, _wishing_ that he would arrive in time. He spotted Laurent lifting his head, certainly hearing the car coming his way, and Damen watched the other _freeze_. Eyes wide with panic, Laurent was rooted in place, in the middle of the street, too afraid to get his legs to move.

 

" _Laurent_!" Damen screamed.

 

He was relieved when Laurent finally seemed to snap out of it, turning his frightened eyes to the other man coming his way. Damen reached him a few seconds later, extending his hand for Laurent to grab it, which the latter thankfully did. At the very last moment, Damen pulled so hard to bring Laurent to him that Laurent toppled on top of him, making them both fall on the sidewalk. The car sped at that moment on the spot Laurent had been standing mere instants ago.

 

It stopped some meters away, the scratch of the tires hissing painfully on the road, and it looked like the person inside was observing them. Damen wondered briefly if they would come back and run over the two of them. His heart sped up at the thought, panicking.

 

Instead, the car was turned around and departed, leaving the other two more shaken than injured.

 

Damen realised suddenly that he had not been breathing in that moment. He took a deep gulp, calming his heart, knowing that they were out of danger.

 

"Are you alright?" he asked Laurent with concern, observing him carefully to detect any injury.

 

Except for his bandaged hand, Laurent didn't seem much worse for wear. He nodded, eyes holding Damen's gaze.

 

They were silent for a moment, only assessing each other. Laurent was the first to break the contact, lowering his eyes to watch their positions. Damen was suddenly aware of their proximity, how much their limbs were tangled between each other. Damen even had a hand on Laurent's back to keep him near, certainly having done so when the car passed them quickly.

 

Damen expected a glare, maybe a yell, and even so, his brain did not process that he should at least remove his hand if Laurent wanted to stand up.

 

The last thing he expected from the other was a smirk. An amused one at that.

 

"Oh dear, and here I thought you didn't like me," Laurent voiced with a spark of amusement.

 

Damen was so in shock that he forgot to move completely, entranced by that entity that was supposedly Laurent. But it couldn't be! Laurent would have hissed at him, would have wrung himself away from Damen's grasp. He would not have joked about it!

 

Laurent arched an eyebrow, and Damen was suddenly of a mind that Laurent was mocking him. It was not so out of character after all. Damen quickly removed his hand, coughing with embarrassment, allowing Laurent to pull away. The latter stood, dusting his clothes, then seriously stared at the direction the car had fled.

 

Damen was next to him moments later.

 

"This is serious, though. I don't know why, but that person was clearly after you. We need to contact the police!"

 

Laurent eyed him sideways.

 

"What need would there be? It's not like we had time to see the license. There would be nothing to tell the police. Besides, I know who did it."

 

"You do?" Damen asked, dumbfounded.

 

Laurent nodded. Damen waited for him to say something, but it appeared Laurent was done, gaze fixated on the road. Annoyed to be left hanging, Damen grabbed Laurent’s elbow to gain his focus back.

 

“Who did it?” he asked again.

 

Laurent was first annoyed at the hold Damen had on his arm, eyeing it with distaste, but Damen was too focused on getting an answer. Laurent seemed to debate on the matter, surely wondering if he should say anything or not. Damen only got more impatient.

 

"My uncle," Laurent finally answered slowly, gauging the other’s reaction.

 

Speechless, Damen searched Laurent for any kind of signal that would tell him it was a joke. But as he saw how serious Laurent was, it was clear that he believed it.

 

"Your uncle? Your uncle was in that car?"

 

This time, it was Laurent’s turn to get impatient and he started collecting the papers he had on him earlier that had flown on the street; the ones salvageable anyway.

 

"No, he wasn't in the car. But it was clearly him pulling the strings."

 

"What? Why? Do you have any proof?"

 

These were grave accusations. Laurent was basically telling Damen that his uncle was trying to kill him.

 

Laurent scowled, straightening up as he gathered the last of his papers.

 

"No, I don't."

 

"Then why do you say that?" Damen asked, pressing the matter.

 

Was the relation between uncle and nephew so painful that Laurent would believe his own family would attempt to kill him? If he had no proof, Laurent could not and should not claim such things.

 

Laurent turned away, his back to Damen, making his way to the other side of the street. Damen grabbed his bag, made sure that all his textbooks were there with a quick look, and followed his flatmate.

 

"Because I have reasons to believe so. Look, I shouldn't have told you that. Just forget about it."

 

Damen frowned, now walking side by side with Laurent.

 

"I won't forget about it! There's a maniac on the loose who's trying to kill you! We need to tell the police! I have friends who are police officers. I can ask them to investigate."

 

"Don't bother!" Laurent snapped. "I already told you my uncle pulled those strings and I know that the person in that car won't try anything else for a while. So let it go."

 

"You know those are serious accusations, right? You should be careful when you say such things without proofs."

 

Laurent stopped dead, glaring at Damen.

 

"Why are you even defending him?!"

 

"He's your family! Maybe it's not rainbows and sunshine between you two, but I'm sure it's not as serious as wanting to kill you!"

 

Laurent barked a joyless laugh, throwing his head backwards.

 

"That's precious. I'm living with a naive unicorn! Perfect!" he spat with sarcasm. "You don't even know him, yet here you are defending him because he's my _family_." Laurent added in disgust.

 

He shook his head, as though tired.

 

"I should have known you wouldn't believe me."

 

And with that, he left quickly, steps deliberately wide and fast to put distance between the two of them.

 

Damen was rooted to the ground, unable to find a suitable answer to that.

 

* * *

 

"A black Toyota with tainted screens?" Nikandros asked, pensive. "I haven't spotted any in my runs, but I'll make sure to have a look out for it."

 

"Thanks," Damen said gratefully.

 

Despite Laurent telling him not to butt in, Damen couldn't help going to Nikandros in order to have him investigate. Not only would that make him feel better, but it could never hurt in helping Laurent.

 

It might also have to do with the fact that this could prove Laurent's uncle’s innocence.

 

 _Or guilt_ , his mind gladly reminded himself.

 

Damen sighed, massaging his forehead to shoo the thought away. Remorse made its way to the pit of his stomach, reminding him how bad he felt for the way he acted. Laurent's words still rang loudly in his mind, stinging painfully.

 

 _I should have known you wouldn't believe me_.

 

It felt as though Damen had failed Laurent. As though at that precise moment, Laurent decided to confide in him, to finally share some pieces of himself. And all Damen could find to do was throw them and stamp on them as though it were trash.

 

Damen was sickened with himself.

 

"You okay?" Nikandros asked, worry etched on his features.

 

"Yeah, just tired. It's been a long week."

 

"I can imagine. With what you've told me, this is pretty rough. Are you sure you're going to be okay, though? I mean... things with Laurent haven't gotten better?"

 

Damen sighed and gave a shrug. Part of it was his fault too at this point.

 

Nikandros wasn't satisfied by that kind of answer, pursing his lips.

 

"Look, Damen, are you sure it's a good idea to stay with Laurent?"

 

Confused, Damen looked up with a scowl, stopping in his track to watch Nikandros' expression. What was his friend getting at?

 

"Huh?"

 

"I mean, the guy was almost run over by a car specifically hitting for him. Someone is out for him."

 

"Yeah, so?"

 

Nikandros sighed, running a hand through his brown tresses.

 

"Ugh, Damen, as much as sometimes you're a genius who can pick up the littlest detail to understand what's going on, as much as other times, you're so naive it's painful! It's kind of incredible, really."

 

"Hey!" Damen exclaimed, offended.

 

Nikandros chuckled, smiling gently.

 

"I guess it's because of your big heart of an oaf," he said, shaking his head in amusement. He regained his seriousness rapidly, however. "But Damen, you have to be careful. If someone is out for Laurent, then it might mean he did something. He may as well not be what he truly seems. If you're not careful, you might end up intertwined into something you never thought you would."

 

Damen finally understood what Nikandros meant. The offence poofed away, leaving him pondering over the warnings. Of course, he hadn't thought of it that way, and it might make sense.

 

But somehow, the way Laurent tried to reveal a bit of his situation the previous day, the way he was... hurt, yeah, that was it, hurt... Damen didn't have the feeling that his roommate was trouble. Well, except for his personality, but that was beyond the point.

 

It was more as if Laurent was tangled into a situation out of his control.

 

"I hate myself for saying this," Damen started, wincing in distaste, "but I think Laurent actually needs someone to help, even if he would push everyone away. And I... kind of want to be the one to do that."

 

Nikandros scowled, not pleased.

 

"Are you even hearing yourself right now? What has he ever done for you? You've tried and given, and he always pushed you away. He doesn't deserve that kind of help, Damen. You don't owe him anything. What if you get hurt?"

 

Damen knew that his friend was merely worried for him, but it offended him to hear everything he said anyway. He knew Nikandros was also right, about everything, but Damen would rather not hear any of it.

 

"Look, I think he tried to open up to me yesterday," Damen said. "And I blew it. I should make it up to him."

 

"Why? You don't owe him anything. If anything, he should be the one making it up to you!"

 

Damen snorted.

 

"Never gonna happen."

 

"That's what I'm saying! Forget about it, Damen, forget about _him_. He's not worth it."

 

"He's already paid for his share of the flat in full, Nikandros. I can't possibly throw him out. And it's hard to forget someone when they’re right under your nose."

 

Nikandros scratched the top of his head, disgruntled. He was not pleased with Damen's situation, and it touched the latter that he had such a close friend. But it also bothered him how Nikandros was pushing him.

 

"Then throw him out next year. Find someone else at that moment. You'll have plenty of time to find a new flatmate. Just... just don't get involved, would you? I wouldn't be surprised if he's bad news."

 

"You don’t even know him!" Damen retorted.

 

The words had a weird ring to them, and it took him a moment to realise that they were the exact same words Laurent had snapped at him the day before.

 

Yeah, he'd really fucked up with Laurent.

 

"No, maybe not... And Jord did kinda like him... I'm just – I'm just worried for you Damen. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you. I mean, what with Jokaste suddenly with Kastor..."

 

Damen's face closed entirely and for a moment, he felt like a very good personification of Laurent. Then the anger took over, unable to hide his emotions for long.

 

"Wait, what?" he growled dangerously.

 

Nikandros started, not expecting that kind of reaction.

 

"Wait, she didn't tell you?"

 

What the fuck? Just what the fuck? Great, just what he needed! Not that she and he were in a serious relationship or anything, nor did he feel much more for her than good friendship and a little attraction towards her body, but with _Kastor_?!

 

"Look, man, I'm sorry. I thought you knew..." Nikandros started, but Damen cut him short.

 

"Don't be. We're only friends anyway."

 

He felt betrayed. He adored his step-brother and he loved Jokaste a lot as a friend. But they did all this behind his back. He had no idea they even knew each other! How could they hide this from him?

 

"I'm going," he muttered, turning around.

 

"Damen, wait!" Nikandros called out.

 

But Damen ignored him, leaving.

 

* * *

 

A week from December, there was a visit no one expected at the flat. It was a Wednesday night, both of the occupants were there, one doing who-knew-what – probably studying – in his room, the other both surfing on the net while doing an assignment on the couch.

 

Their doorbell rang and Damen lifted his head from the couch with a frown. He didn't remember inviting anyone over, so there were low chances that it was for him, but who could be visiting Laurent? The guy was always alone and made a point of not making any friends.

 

However, Laurent didn't seem to be making any move to answer the door either. It either meant he had not heard the bell, which was mostly improbable, or thought it was for Damen. In conclusion, there were high chances that the visit was a surprise one.

 

With a sigh, annoyed a little that Laurent would not make a move to answer the door anyway, Damen stood from his comfortable spot on the sofa and made his way to the entrance of the flat. When he opened the door, he was met by an older man he didn't know. Tall with dark brown hair and beard carefully trimmed, he looked to be in his forties. He was well dressed and imposing, carrying a small and long bag containing what looked to be a lone item, telling Damen that this could not be a door-to-door salesperson.

 

"Hello. Sorry to bother you, would Laurent be here?"

 

Damen's eyes widened. This man was here for Laurent? Damen could also detect an accent, the same kind as his flatmate. Could this be Laurent's uncle?

 

If so, they looked nothing alike. Where Laurent was petite and pale, his uncle was tall, broad and dark in hair. He wasn’t taller than Damen, however, the latter higher of a few inches.

 

"Yes, he is. Come on in, I'll go get him," Damen answered simply, standing out of the way for the man to enter.

 

The latter thanked him with a nod and stepped inside, waiting at the entrance once Damen closed the door and made his way back to Laurent's room. Damen knocked on the door softly.

 

"Laurent?"

 

He heard shuffling before steps came his way, then Laurent appeared before him with his permanent frown, irritated to be bothered from whatever he was doing.

 

"What is it?" he asked with displease.

 

"Someone's here for you."

 

Laurent's frown deepen, but this time out of confusion. He took a few steps out of his bedroom before he froze, recognizing the unknown man as the latter made his way inside the kitchen. The older man smiled at Laurent, but as Damen observed him, he couldn't help but think it was unnatural and forced.

 

" **Que faites-vous ici?** " Laurent hissed, body tensed and on the defensive.

 

As Damen observed his flatmate, however, he noticed how quickly he put the tension away, reclaiming a calmness both in his limbs and features. His poker face was carefully placed back, as though suddenly disinterested by his uncle’s arrival despite his outburst a few seconds ago.

 

Laurent was not expecting this, not in the least, but he as hell made certain that his uncle would notice as less as possible.

 

The stranger tutted him in what was supposed to be a gentle tone, but Damen could only sense a light shiver of discomfort at the sound.

 

"Ah, Laurent, that is no way to greet your dear uncle, now, is it? And we're not the only ones in this room. We ought to speak their language as to not be rude."

 

Ah, so it _was_ Laurent's uncle. He really had no resemblance to his nephew whatsoever.

 

Damen turned to watch Laurent's reaction. Somehow, the image Damen got from Laurent was that of a hunting cat. He was looking as disinterested as possible so that he could pounce later to his unsuspected victim.

 

"Answer my question," Laurent merely said in return, keeping his voice level despite his distaste.

 

Laurent's uncle shrugged.

 

"Does an uncle need a specific reason to visit his nephew?"

 

"You had to fly to come here. I don't remember you enjoying leaving work for an extended period of time without a good reason, and coming simply to surprise me doesn’t seem like a good one. So why did you come?"

 

His uncle sighed, discouraged by Laurent's mood, and Damen couldn't help a moment of sympathy for him. Laurent didn't seem to be easy to deal with, even for his family.

 

"I was in the neighborhood for work. I thought I would come visit you, congratulate you on your acceptance at Cambridge."

 

Wow. And Laurent thought his uncle wanted to end his life? He seemed nothing but a nice relative who took care of their difficult adopted child.

 

"I've never told you where I lived. How did you find me?"

 

That, however, got Damen's attention. If Laurent didn't want to be found, that was his problem. But then again, Laurent seemed the type of person to isolate himself, so maybe it was the only way for his uncle to have any kind of news.

 

"I called the university. Told them I was your legal guardian, that you left without a word and that I was worried. They easily gave me your address, thankfully."

 

It obviously disturbed Laurent who turned his head away from his uncle, scrunching his nose in disgust. He might have forgotten Damen who was a few steps behind, somewhat in the shadows, otherwise he would not have shown such an expression.

 

"You're not my guardian anymore. I turned 20 last week."

 

Huh? Laurent's birthday was the week before? Even though there was no way he could have known, Damen felt a little guilty he hadn't at least wished a happy birthday to Laurent. But then his mind kindly reminded him that it wasn't as though Laurent would have accepted it anyway, so there was no use.

 

"Yes, but I was still your father figure for a few years and I was worried about you. Besides, as you said, your birthday was last week, so I wanted to bring you a gift."

 

His uncle lifted the plastic bag he held to emphasize his words and got a bottle of wine out of it, handing it to Laurent. The latter did not as much as take it, rooted in place, staring impassively – rudely – at his uncle.

 

Damen realised that this was a weird gift. He knew that their company made wine products, but he also remembered Laurent telling him that he did not drink. Surely that was something his uncle was aware of. So why did he bring such a gift?

 

Maybe it was for the same reason Laurent wanted to take over such a company?

 

"No thank you. I'd rather be _run over_ rather than accept a gift from you."

 

Damen started, understanding the words clearly as to what they were. Laurent was testing the ground about his theory, attempting to coax a reaction out of his uncle. But the older man merely frowned in both confusion and displease at the refusal.

 

"That's an odd thing to say. I believe I raised you better than that. And you were such a _sweet boy_ when you were younger. Whatever could have happened for you to become so bitter?"

 

For a moment, Laurent clenched and unclenched one of his hands, but he stopped quickly.

 

"Giving away my position to someone, first of all, didn't much help."

 

"I already told you over the phone. You fled to Cambridge without my knowing. What else did you expect me to do?"

 

"I kept sending reports. I did my job overseas anyway. I also said I would be back for the breaks. You had no right to take it away from me."

 

"I had every right. I'm the boss of this company," Laurent's uncle was sweet, words slow, as though he were speaking to a small child that could not comprehend otherwise. "I need someone who's physically there, and that wasn't the case for you anymore. Don't think your actions were without consequences."

 

He was suddenly imposing in his reproach and seemed much taller than he already was. But despite Laurent’s smallness, the latter was far from impressed and had no reaction whatsoever, merely crossing his arms on his chest. If anything, he looked taller himself, head held high.

 

Damen felt ill-at-ease. He shouldn't be here, shouldn't have stayed, but his legs were rooted in his spot, curious of the conversation. He knew that he would have heard everything, even if he had been in his room, but they might have spoken French too... He was intruding and he knew it, judging by the guilt making its way to the pit of his stomach.

 

"Ah, but look how ill-mannered we are," Laurent's uncle added, eyes glancing at Damen as though he had read his thoughts.

 

He calmed himself, regaining a poised demeanor.

 

"Your flatmate is still present and the first thing we do is fight in front of him. Apologies..." he stretched the word, asking for Damen’s name.

 

"Damen."

 

"Apologies, Damen. My nephew can sometimes have quite the temper. I hope he's not giving you any troubles."

 

Damen did not answer that, not knowing how to. He glanced at Laurent, but the latter stubbornly kept his attention solely on his uncle, watching his every move. Damen could have said that Laurent was indeed giving him a bit – a lot – of trouble, but he felt as though if the words left his mouth, he would make a grave mistake.

 

And so, for the first time, he kept quiet. It seemed his flatmate's uncle didn't wait for an answer either, returning his attention to his nephew.

 

"You should know, nephew, that I was kind enough to keep a position for you despite everything. It will require your attention during your breaks, so it is a win-win situation. Now, let us make peace. You should taste the gift I brought you."

 

Once again, Laurent's uncle handed the bottle towards him, but his nephew made no gesture to take it, offering the silent treatment instead. His uncle sighed, frustrated, then turned to Damen.

 

"I'm certain your friend here would like to taste it. How about it, Damen? Drink to Laurent's birthday?"

 

Damen silently gazed at Laurent to watch for any kind of reactions, but seeing how Laurent stubbornly kept staring at his uncle instead of him and didn't move or say anything at all, Damen merely shrugged, nodding. What was the harm in it?

 

He moved for the first time since he got to Laurent's room and went for the cupboards where he took out three wine glasses. He didn't know if Laurent would take any, but he might change his mind once he saw his uncle and Damen drinking.

 

Bringing the glasses to the table, Laurent's uncle opened the bottle and poured the wine to a quarter of the first glass. He then put the bottle down and placed the glass in front of Damen for him to take it.

 

"Come on, taste it! This red wine is from one of our finest vineyards."

 

Damen frowned slightly, not yet taking the drink.

 

"If it's for Laurent, shouldn't we toast or something?" he asked, wondering why the older man hadn't yet poured himself a glass.

 

"Ah, yes, of course!"

 

Laurent's uncle seemed to recall himself and poured himself a glass as well, with less wine than in Damen's. He grabbed it and motioned for Damen to do so as well, but when the latter was about to, Laurent was suddenly onto him, taking the glass before he could and quickly downing its content.

 

Baffled, Damen could only stare with wide eyes as Laurent smirked, still avoiding his gaze and turning to his uncle.

 

"You said this was a gift for me, right? Then I should get a say as to who drinks it. I get to claim the whole bottle. Thank you very much for the thoughtful gift, uncle."

 

His uncle sighed heavily, putting his glass down while Damen started to shake with rage.

 

What was his problem?! Why did Laurent have to always do what pissed him off?

 

"Don't you think that was rather uncalled for?" Laurent's uncle said with reproach.

 

Laurent merely shrugged, taking his empty glass as well as the bottle back to the counter. He placed the glass in the sink and hid the bottle in one of the cabinets where there already were a few of his articles.

 

"What can I say? That was delicious wine! It had a nice scent to it, something I didn't recognize. Maybe a certain spice to it? And besides, it's not like he and I are in good terms or anything, so why should he get a drink of my gift?"

 

Damen was boiling. The need to punch Laurent was getting stronger and stronger. Spoiled brat! That was all he was, a spoiled brat!

 

"I should've known. Sorry for trying to celebrate your birthday," Damen spat.

 

"Sweetheart, it's not like you even wanted to."

 

There was nothing but contempt etched on Damen's features. He was done with Laurent and his pathetic attitude.

 

"Fuck you."

 

He turned around and slammed his bedroom door behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit late again, but it's a long chapter once more and just in time for Holidays! I thought it would be nice to give you guys a present :D
> 
> I enjoyed writing this chapter too! Laurent's uncle's a dick. It was also a little irritating always writing uncle, but I didn't want to give him a name, since C.S. Pacat didn't give him any. And since he's not a Regent in there, well...
> 
> Anyways, I want to wish everyone Happy Holidays, in hope that you have a wonderful time, that you can take the time to rest and be happy. I wish you everything you want and need! :D
> 
> Thank you as always for the kuddos and comments, they're so, so appreciated ^w^


	9. Control

For a while, Damen lay on his bed facing the ceiling, arms spread wide on each of his sides. He was aware of the other two talking in the kitchen, but as the words became incomprehensible, it was evident they were speaking in French once more.

 

Laurent's uncle's tone was harsh, surely reprimanding his nephew, but from the way the latter answered, it was obvious he didn't care. At that moment, Damen tuned it all out, closing his eyes, thinking of anything else but the kitchen’s occupants.

 

Lately, however, whenever he tried to distract himself merely with his mind, he found he wandered back to Laurent anyway, despite how much he tried not to. It was frustrating and he realised he wouldn't be able to do it unless he occupied himself. But as he sat up, searching for his laptop and his textbooks to return to the essay he'd been working on before Laurent's uncle arrived, Damen remembered he left everything on the couch.

 

It either meant get his things and return to the 'nice' family reunion and Laurent's haughty gaze, or occupy himself with something else.

 

Damen was pondering on which book he should read from his shelf, but as he listened to the silence of his room, he noticed that it was actually silent everywhere. Laurent and his uncle were not talking anymore.

 

Maybe his uncle was gone and Laurent had returned to his room. Maybe Damen could go get his things after all.

 

Slowly, he made his way to the door and opened it silently, checking in the kitchen. The older man was gone, that was obvious. Laurent, however, was not in his room as Damen expected. Instead, he sat at the kitchen table, head low, resting in his hands. His blond hair was pooling on each side of his face, making it even more impossible to judge what kind of expression was on his features.

 

Not that Damen cared. It was Laurent's problem if he regretted his actions with his uncle. He didn't have to be so rude and spoiled in the first place.

 

Judging that Laurent would not really want to speak to him at this moment, Damen deemed it safe to go get his laptop and books. As he arrived to the couch, he took another quick glimpse at Laurent, whose front was now in his line of sight.

 

And Laurent was shaking.

 

Could he be _crying_?

 

The thought was surreal to Damen. Laurent was not the type to cry, less from a situation like this!

 

But what if he was?

 

_Then let him be! It's not like he deserves any of your attention or sympathy after what he did to you!_

 

Determined, he gathered his books and laptop, and when he straightened up, saw that Laurent had uncovered his face, arms now lying on the table.

 

He was not crying after all. However, he looked _beyond_ _pale_ , which was saying something what with his normal skin tone being no darker than porcelain.

 

And on further inspection, Damen thought it looked almost green like. Laurent’s breath was also shallow, coming out in shaky puffs, glassy eyes staring numbly at the wooden surface.

 

Suddenly worried, Damen made his way to the table.

 

"Are you all right?"

 

"Yes."

 

Curt, to the point, immediate.

 

Laurent raised his eyes to meet Damen’s and the latter noted how in control they were. More so than usual. Every part of Laurent's body was in absolute control, except for the slight shaking and the shallow breathing. That, and the flush of his cheeks growing redder and redder. There were also beams of sweat slowly rolling down from his forehead.

 

"You're ill!" Damen exclaimed, putting his books and computer on the table to check Laurent more closely.

 

And Damen would not have noticed if he’d decided to simply go back to his room. Laurent was displaying such sheer willpower over his body that he could almost look normal to anyone not paying attention.

 

"I'm not," Laurent argued in a strained voice.

 

Why was he forcing himself like this? What did he gain by doing so?

 

"You seemed fine ten minutes ago. Were you unwell before that?" Damen asked, brain working furiously.

 

Indeed, it seemed unlikely that Laurent could be sick when he had seemed fine before. People didn't fall that sick that quickly, right? Unless Laurent hid it all this time. He did seem to have impressive self-control.

 

But to have kept it in check while he fought against his uncle... Even that seemed implausible.

 

"No."

 

Damen circled the table to get to Laurent's side in order to check on him better.

 

"Did you eat something weird?" he asked, placing a hand on Laurent's forehead as Laurent shook his head for an answer. "God, you're burning up!" Damen exclaimed, removing his hand in dismay.

 

Laurent was unfazed.

 

"Probably something I dra –"

 

He cut himself, unable to finish his sentence, and his hand flew to his mouth when a bout of nausea hit him. Laurent managed to keep it in, but when he lowered his arm, his breathing was shallower and harder, his whole body shaking with more force this time.

 

Damen gently grabbed him by the shoulders and guided him up, processing what Laurent had said despite being unable to finish his sentence. He put two and two together, glancing at the cupboard in which Laurent had placed the wine bottle earlier, but didn't comment on it just yet, other matters more urgent at the moment.

 

"Come on, let's get you to the bathroom. You shouldn't hold it in like that," he recommended gently.

 

"Get off me," Laurent said weekly, pushing Damen away.

 

Damen let him go, offended at first, but placing that feeling away for another time. Right now, Laurent was unwell, and it was possible he didn't appreciate people all over him when it was so.

 

He watched as Laurent made his way to the bathroom, each step taken slowly, but in complete control. It was astounding how Laurent could have such willpower over himself. Damen would be lying if he ever said he was unimpressed. But it also left him wondering what that could do on Laurent's body when he obviously was in pain.

 

At this exact instant, Laurent collapsed, hand once more over his mouth to prevent another bout of nausea. This time, Damen quickly rushed to Laurent in order to catch him and helped him up once more, ignoring the other's feeble protests of letting him go.

 

They got to the bathroom moments later and Laurent, who couldn't hold it in anymore, finally threw up in the toilet.

 

Damen wondered if he should let Laurent have his privacy. It was clear the other didn't like to have any kind of audience in his moments of weakness. But he saw how Laurent's hair got in the way and Damen decided otherwise.

 

Gently, he leaned down to gather the pale strands in a low ponytail, reaching for one of the drawer next to them and rummaging for the hair bands his mother left there for the few times she came to visit. Damen exclaimed his victory when he found them, took one and carefully attached Laurent's hair with it.

 

Poor Laurent was finished emptying the content of his stomach and was merely heaving bile, body trembling all over, skin so pale it wasn't just green anymore, it looked ashen gray. Damen got anxious when he understood that Laurent could not stop his heaving.

 

"He put something in the wine, didn’t he?" Damen asked, the palm of his hand resting again on Laurent's forehead.

 

Damn, he was warmer than before. This was getting too worrisome.

 

"W-what, you believe... me now?" Laurent asked through his heaving, voice low and strained.

 

"It's the only logical explanation. You were perfectly fine before, and then suddenly, when you drink the wine he gives you, you're sick as hell ten minutes later. It's rather plain as day."

 

_It would also explain why he 'forgot' to pour himself a glass at first._

 

Damen was repulsed. How could someone even do that to their own family? It was horrible!

 

"Laurent, we need to get you to the hospital. If he poisoned you, you're in danger!"

 

Laurent, who finally seemed to have a break from all the vomiting, was resting his head on the cool surface of the toilet, eyes closed. He was clutching his stomach, which must hurt like hell, teeth clenched, eyebrows knitted together in pain. It was the first time Damen saw anything else than pure hatred, mild annoyance or careful control on Laurent's face.

 

Damen would rather never have seen it.

 

"No need. H-he didn't... It would be too suspicious... The amount... of poison he... put can't... kill me."

 

Damen couldn't believe his ears. Laurent was refusing to go to the hospital despite the pain he was in? For what, his precious control he was so fond of? All because he was certain he could not die. Imbecile!

 

"You moron!" Damen boomed.

 

Laurent started, turning his eyes to Damen.

 

"You've been poisoned!” Damen continued with rage not entirely directed at Laurent. “Even if it's a small amount, we can't be certain that it won't be fatal! We don’t even know what he poisoned you with! We're going to the hospital whether you want it or not!"

 

Laurent had the audacity to look surprised at Damen's outcry. With one last hard and determined look, Damen stood up, heading for his cell phone. He didn't have a car, and bringing Laurent in a bus was a bad idea, so he called for Nikandros who lived near their flat. He owned a car and would be able to drive them to the hospital.

 

Thankfully, his friend was at home. It didn't take much convincing since Laurent's life might be in danger, but Nikandros wasn't pleased with it. Damen didn't care much for now, however. As long as Laurent was brought to the hospital.

 

He made a quick stop to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, then returned to the bathroom, finding Laurent heaving once more. Damen knelt beside him and handed him the pre-opened bottle.

 

"Here, try to drink a little. You need to stay hydrated."

 

Laurent looked up at him. He looked so sick it made Damen's stomach twist heart-wrenchingly.

 

As Laurent shakingly grabbed the bottle, slowly gulping down some of it, Damen went for the cabinet for a small towel that he moistened with cold water right after. He heard Laurent put away the bottle and the very second later, unfortunately, he was rejecting the liquid he ingested.

 

This was bad. If Laurent couldn't even keep water inside of him the normal way, he was in dire need of medical help.

 

Damen returned to Laurent’s side, kneeling next to him, and carefully wiped away the sweat. Laurent hummed softly, but seemed to correct himself and frowned instead, lifting a hand to grab the cloth.

 

“You don’t have to do this.”

 

His voice was a little weak, but it carried the usual ire and distance he used whenever he was annoyed with Damen. Damen let go of the cloth, knowing it was best to let Laurent win some arguments in this state instead of getting angry himself in return.

 

“Maybe, but you’re in no state to do everything yourself. Although I can understand you might want your space when you feel this way, you shouldn’t over exhaust yourself because of it,” Damen explained gently, hoping some of his words would get through Laurent.

 

He grabbed the trashcan next to the toilet and brought it to the living room, next to the sofa, before he returned to Laurent, extending a hand to help him up.

 

“Come on. You’ll be more comfortable on the couch while we wait for my friend to come pick us up.”

 

Laurent hesitated for a moment, reluctant, but in the end, he took Damen’s hand and let himself be guided through the rooms, his legs trembling, his stomach surely more than queasy. When Laurent finally lay on the couch, Damen made certain the cloth was secured on his forehead and the trashcan was near enough for Laurent to be able to grab it quickly if needed be.

 

Damen’s phone buzzed a few minutes later, while Laurent heaved nothing but bile, and it was a heartbreaking sight that Damen wished to remedy to as soon as possible. He was glad to see that Nikandros had been the one to text him, telling him he was waiting for them in front of the flat.

 

After he answered him, Damen went to get both his and Laurent’s coats. Laurent sat up and put his coat on as it was handed to him while Damen did the same. Damen made to help his flatmate up, but Laurent pushed his hands away with a frown, standing on his own. With a sigh, Damen let him, eyeing him to make certain he would not hurt himself in the process.

 

They made their way outside and got in the car, both sitting in the back, Damen wanting to be near if anything happened to Laurent. He had also brought the trashcan, just in case, so he placed it between them, at their feet.

 

Nikandros drove away without a word, knowing now was not the time for presentations.

 

Laurent leaned against the window, holding the moistened cloth against his forehead, breathing coming out in heavy puffs, face flushed. He sat as far away as possible from Damen, closed in on himself, teeth clenched whenever there was a bout of pain. He didn’t make any sort of whimper or even noise of pain, keeping everything bottled inside, as in control as he could be.

 

Damen figured that, feeling all miserable and ill, it was the only comfort Laurent could turn to.

 

When they arrived to the emergency part of the nearest hospital, Damen thanked Nikandros. He was about to tell him to go home and not wait for them, expecting that they would keep Laurent for a while and that Damen could take the bus if they actually kept Laurent overnight, but Nikandros got out of the car, stating that he would stay until everything was settled.

 

Even though he felt a little bad, a rush of relief flooded Damen. It was clear Nikandros wasn’t too happy with everything that was unfolding, but he offered his help anyway. Damen was lucky to have such a good friend. 

 

When they entered, Damen asked Laurent for his wallet with his cards inside before he told him to go sit down while Damen took care of the reception process.

 

He answered a few questions and explained Laurent’s situation, saying that he could not even keep water in and that he wouldn’t be surprised if he was soon dehydrated because of it. The receptionist told him a nurse would see them soon to check on Laurent, considering the seriousness of his situation.

 

A man arrived a few minutes later, asking two or three questions that Laurent answered feebly, then took him away for examination. Damen, unconsciously, had been about to stand up to follow, wanting to make sure Laurent would be fine, but Laurent sent him a hard look when he noticed and Damen sat back immediately.

 

He and Nikandros were left alone with a few other people in the room waiting for care as well.

 

It was silent for a while, then Nikandros spoke for the first time since he went to pick Damen and Laurent up.

 

“How’re you holding up?” he asked simply, eyes assessing his friend.

 

Damen shrugged.

 

“I’m not the one in there because he was poisoned. I’m doing completely fine. That’s something you should ask Laurent instead.”

 

Nikandros didn’t say anything back, merely watching Damen, searching. It irked the latter who knew that there was something else his friend wanted to say, but kept to him.

 

“What?” Damen snapped, on edge.

 

Nikandros arched an eyebrow, unimpressed, before he looked away.

 

“You’re involving yourself again, and I can’t understand why,” he admitted.

 

Damen felt his temper flare, annoyed by the subject he certainly did not want to breach at the moment.

 

“Oh, because I was supposed to leave him there to take care of himself when he could have died?” he retorted in a hiss.

 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Nikandros replied calmly. “You could have called 999 and be done with it. Instead, you had to accompany him and make sure he was all right.”

 

Damen sighed in frustration, rubbing his face with the palm of his hands.

 

“Look, some things happened, okay? Laurent got almost run over two weeks ago and today, his uncle came to visit and poisoned him in the process! I wasn’t about to leave him be, nor simply do the strict minimum to help!”

 

Nikandros frowned, crossing his arms on his chest.

 

“Are you even sure his uncle did it? It might have just been normal food poisoning.”

 

Damen shook his head, dumbfounded.

 

“He was fine all evening. It was only after he drank the wine his uncle gave him that he was violently sick! The coincidence is too uncanny to even be one. Besides, normal food poisoning isn’t as violent as how sick he was.”

 

“He didn’t look _that_ bad when I saw him,” Nikandros trailed off, checking in the direction they took Laurent away.

 

“That’s because he has incredible self-control. I’ve never seen anyone being able to keep their body in check like that. I think I understand he hates losing control when he’s surrounded by people. I guess it's his defence mechanism. You didn't see him the way I saw him earlier. He isn't well at all."

 

Damen felt himself shaking and he clenched his fists, remembering the man who entered their flat with what seemed like good intentions. The man that was Laurent's uncle, his family, the one who was supposed to take care of his nephew. But instead of doing that, he actually harmed Laurent.

 

Damen suddenly remembered how that man had attempted to make him drink the wine first. How Damen had been on the verge to do so when Laurent rudely interrupted, stealing his glass. And suddenly, it was all so very clear.

 

Laurent hadn't wanted to keep the gift for himself. He hadn’t really drank because he was repulsed by Damen touching his drink. That had been nothing but pretense.

 

Laurent had actually saved Damen. Laurent had known that the wine was not safe. Or he had at least suspected. Which was why he had refused so vehemently to drink it, but when Damen had been about to, he had changed his mind. He had made sure that Damen was not hurt and, in the process, made it look like something else so that Damen wouldn't know – and probably hoped his uncle wouldn't as well.

 

Damen scrunched his nose in disgust, repulsed not only by Laurent's uncle, but with himself as well. How could he have been so blind?

 

"He saved me, Nikandros," he murmured, still too stunned to speak louder.

 

Nikandros leaned nearer to him, frowning, uncertain he had heard the words well.

 

"What?"

 

"He saved me," Damen said louder this time. "His uncle was about to make _me_ drink the wine, but Laurent stepped in to stop me. He was rude about it, mind you, but I imagine he didn't want me to understand. Or make a scene. Or make sure his uncle didn't guess he knew."

 

Damen turned his head to his friend, guilt written all over his face.

 

"I made him drink that. If I had refused the glass, none of this would have happened! Ugh, I'm such an idiot!"

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and noticed Nikandros serious expression.

 

"Hey, you couldn't have known. Don't drag yourself down like this!"

 

"Maybe, but if I'd minded my own business, like he wanted, maybe he wouldn't be in there now."

 

Still, Damen sighed heavily, rubbed his face, then relaxed. Nikandros was right, it was no use beating himself up over this. Instead, he should focus on helping Laurent and make it up to him. Maybe Laurent had been irksome since the moment they met, giving reasons to Damen to actually be angry, but Damen had been rather judgemental as well. They both had things to work out if they wanted to be on good terms.

 

The question was if, once Damen redeemed himself, Laurent would _want_ to be on good terms. After Damen's stunt, he might think it best to cut all ties.

 

No use thinking about it now. He would talk about it to Laurent once they got a suitable moment for it, making sure that they really talked without any facade to make things clear.

 

"But you're right. Sorry," Damen finally added with a small smile.

 

It reassured Nikandros who returned it to him, sitting back against his chair, turning his head towards the ceiling.

 

They waited in silence after that, until the nurse who'd taken Laurent away came back to them. Damen fidgeted, thinking that everything must be fine since Laurent had been well set on the fact that his uncle wouldn't kill him just yet, but still unable to chase away the crawling fear of the worst case scenario.

 

The easing smile on the nurse's face was enough to calm his worries.

 

"Your friend is fine. We stabilized him and removed all traces of poisoning. Thankfully, it wasn't life threatening, but there could have been complications if you had brought him later. Also, just to be certain, we will be keeping him under surveillance for the next 24 hours. You can come get him the morning after tomorrow."

 

Damen breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.

 

"Just out of curiosity... What kind of poisoning was it?"

 

"We can't be too certain, but it looked like the same kind as when someone eats wild berries that aren't edible."

 

_It had a nice scent to it, something I didn't recognize. Maybe a certain spice to it?_

Goddammit, Laurent had _known_! He'd recognized something was off in the wine. And if they were actually non-edible berries, it was so easy for Laurent's uncle to state he had no idea how it were to be so, blaming the vintage who produced the wine instead. Since it wasn't an amount enough to kill, it was easy to place the blame on someone else.

 

Fuck, this was big! At this point, even if Laurent was very smart, he might not be able to untangle himself alone.

 

He would need help. And Damen was well set on giving it to him.

 

"All right, thank you," he said to the nurse who simple nodded and left.

 

Damen stood, followed by Nikandros, and they made their way back to the parking lot after Nikandros paid for it, ignoring Damen's protest.

 

"You're the one studying and I'm the one with the daily job. A parking fee won't kill me, but you need all the money you can get. So stop complaining already."

 

Damen shut his mouth after that, still not happy with it, but secretly glad.

 

Nikandros drove Damen back to his flat and Damen thanked him once more for it. He was lucky to have him.

 

He made his way inside once Nikandros drove off and stopped in the entrance, eyeing the place. Somehow, despite the fact that they lived separately, trying to avoid each other as much as possible, Damen was aware of how empty the place felt now that Laurent wasn't here. Even if they were both in different rooms, there was still a noticeable presence and, oddly enough, it had been kind of reassuring.

 

But now that Laurent was at the hospital, it was empty and a little cold. How ironic, considering how he’d always described Laurent to be icy.

 

Damen pursed his lips, then removed his shoes and headed back to his room. Instead of going to sleep right away, he opened his books and worked on the essay he’d been working on earlier.

 

Anything to occupy his mind, not to focus on the stillness of the flat.

 

It was weird how he had grown accustomed to Laurent's presence, despite everything.

 

* * *

 

He was uncertain if Laurent would appreciate his presence or not, especially considering the fact that he had no other excuse than that he wanted to see him – Nikandros was working today, so that left the car option out. Damen wouldn't be surprised to receive the cold shoulder once he entered the hospital room, Laurent passing him without a word.

 

So when he made his way inside the hospital, going to the room indicated to him by the receptionist, he hesitated near the opened door, wondering if it might be best to turn around and wait for Laurent back at the flat instead.

 

"Well, are you coming in or not?" Laurent's voice came from inside the room, startling Damen.

 

The latter blinked slowly before he walked inside, moving a few steps away from the door, but lingering in the entrance. He watched Laurent put his coat on, sign that he had been up for a while and getting ready to leave.

 

"How did you...?"

 

"This is the time I get discharged and I figured you'd be there to get me. I heard steps in the hallway stopping just before my room. It didn't take much to put two and two together."

 

Usually, Damen would have been annoyed by the remark. Oddly enough, he found it passing over his head without an ounce of caring.

 

"Makes sense," he said instead, shrugging.

 

Laurent turned around, raising an eyebrow as he watched Damen carefully, as though surprised as well that Damen would not take the bait. Damen ignored him, instead observing the room Laurent stayed in the night before. There was another bed inside, but it was empty as well.

 

"So... you're completely fine now?" Damen asked, wanting to make sure.

 

Laurent nodded, adjusting his sleeves.

 

"Yes, or I wouldn't be discharged now, would I?"

 

Damen sighed softly, closing his eyes.

 

"I just needed to check, in case there was something else," he stated, scratching the back of his head in a nervous gesture.

 

Laurent finished putting on his coat and took an impatient step, the need to exit the place written plainly on his features,

 

"Well, I’m fine. Can we get going n –"

 

"Look, Laurent, I owe you an apology."

 

That seemed to shock Laurent – or, at the very least, it was the first time Damen saw any kind of expression akin to shock on Laurent's face. His eyes had widened a little, eyebrows knitted together as though he could not comprehend the statement.

 

Damen did not give him time for any kind of retort, keeping the words going, knowing it would be best if he wanted to say everything just as he'd practiced in his head. Although it was much harder than when he'd done that.

 

"You tried to open up to me about your uncle and I didn't believe you when I should have. Or I should at least have been receptive to it. Instead, I made you feel like I wasn't on your side when that's the last thing I want. Not only that, but I also butted in on things that didn't concern me, which got you _here_ ," he explained, gesturing vaguely at the room.

 

"All of this could have been avoided if I’d gone back to my rooms two days ago. The more I thought about it, the more you knew there was something in the wine and you were trying not to drink it, but I forced your hand when I almost did."

 

This time, the look of mild astonishment on Laurent's face, as though he found it hard to believe Damen came up with the theory himself, did annoy Damen a little. He suppressed it, however, figuring it was not the time to let habits take over.

 

"I want to help you, as hard as it might seem to believe. I'm on your side, Laurent. You might think that you're able to do all of this alone, and maybe you are. But I know that having others helping out can't hurt. I've seen your uncle, I've seen what he tried to do, and I just can't let that go."

 

"Please let me help you."

 

Laurent, for a very brief moment, looked troubled, but it was slipped into the neutral and calculated mask he usually wore. Laurent was silent, analysing Damen, pondering over the latter's words. He also huffed impatiently and Damen even thought he was _fidgeting,_ as though he needed to get out.

 

Finally, he took a step forward, tilting his head slightly to gauge Damen.

 

"Why? Why would you go to such length?" he asked, frowning.

 

Damen wondered that too. From the beginning, he had felt nothing more than annoyance and anger. But still, each and every time he learned a tiny bit about Laurent, he found himself dragged to his flatmate all the more.

 

"You know what? I actually have no idea myself," Damen said with a small laugh. "Up ‘til now, you’ve been nothing but rude and intent on making me understand that you hated me. And yet...”

 

He looked away briefly.

 

“I want to help you. I just do. There is the fact that I want a despicable man such as your uncle to face justice. Maybe I want to learn more about you because you intrigue me. Maybe I don't want you to feel alone even though that's what you tried to establish from the start, whether it'd be with me or anyone else around you here – but that one feels like pity and that's the last thing I want you to think I feel. So I don't really know."

 

"All I do know is that I want to help you."

 

Laurent's frown deepened and he was silent once more for a few moments. It stretched on, but Damen waited patiently.

 

"I don't understand you," Laurent finally stated, crossing his arms against his chest. "One minute you act annoyed or furious, just as I expect, but the next, you suddenly try to make small talk or do nice gestures for me or even try to become my friend, even with what I constantly make you endure. The only conclusion I can come up with is that you're a masochist."

 

That made Damen laugh and he rubbed his neck.

 

"Yeah, that does sound like it, doesn't it."

 

Laurent sighed in frustration, moving his foot up to tap it down.

 

"I expected you to keep away completely. I _wanted_ you to keep away. But you keep coming _back_ and you're not showing any sign that you're stopping." Another sigh. "I guess that even if I say I won't let you help, you'll do it anyway," he finished in a grumble.

 

Damen smiled softly, shaking his head.

 

"No. This time I'm asking, and I'm expecting an honest answer that isn't filled with maliciousness and hidden intent. If you say to me plainly that you'd rather do everything alone, then this time, I'll leave you to your battles without meddling. Just know that yes, I'll be itching to do something for you if I see you're in trouble, but I'll do my best to keep away. I won't be pleased, but I'll do it."

 

Once more, Laurent looked taken aback.

 

"You're the oddest person I've ever met."

 

A pause.

 

"Very well. I'll let you help."

 

This time, a huge grin spread across Damen's lips. He moved forward and extended his hand, expecting Laurent to grab it and shake. Which he did.

 

"Great! I'm glad. This means we can start over for good this time. I'd really like to be friends."

 

Laurent's eyes narrowed.

 

"Not so fast. I’ve never mentioned anything about being friends."

 

Damen chuckled, releasing Laurent's hand, but soon, he slipped into a more serious mood, knowing that there were things that needed to be said.

 

"Still, I think there are a few other things I need to say as well.”

 

Laurent eyed him impatiently, but moved his hand to gesture him to keep going. It intrigued Damen, wondering why Laurent was so bristling since Damen came in, but he pushed it aside for the moment.

 

“I don't know the entirety of why you glared at me all the time, or made nasty remarks on me, or why you even looked like you hated me. You don't have to explain either if you don't want to. I'd just like for it to stop. I can't help you if I'm always furious."

 

Laurent nodded.

 

"Of course."

 

All seriousness was gone from Damen's face, smile replacing it with satisfaction. Laurent watched him for a moment, his face easing a little, although there were still no traces of smiles. He suddenly moved once more, walking quickly back to the room's exit. Again, Damen couldn’t shake the feeling that Laurent was rushing, that he wanted to flee something.

 

"Well, might as well go back to the flat. I don't know if you had classes today, but I thought of ditching mine."

 

Damen raised an eyebrow, surprised that Laurent would miss classes so deliberately. Although he did just get out of hospital for poisoning.

 

He opened his mouth to answer, but Laurent cut him.

 

"If you'd like, I have a few things I want to share with you."

 

That shut Damen up and he was on the move immediately, catching up with Laurent to walk by his side.

 

"Of course. I'll listen to everything you want to share."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woot! Chapter 9 is done! I was rather quick this time too, considering the length of it, ha ha :D
> 
> It's my favourite chapter so far too, so tell me what you think about it ^w^
> 
> As always, thank you for the comments and kudos! This means the world to me~
> 
> See you next chapter!


	10. Sorry, not a chapter

Hi guys!

 

First of all, I have to apologize that this isn't a new chapter, as you might have expected. I'm working on it, but it's just not ready yet.

 

Second, I wanted to apologize as well to everyone because I realised that I fucked up. Like really fucked up lol. (Okay, maybe not that much, but still, it's going to be confusing for a while because of that.)

 

You know, at the end of the second book, when the Akielons come at the fort and Damen is greeted by someone and that someone's name is Nikandros? Yeah... yeah, for some reason, I thought it was Makedon...

 

So all this time, when I was writing Makedon in my fic, he was actually Nikandros all this time! Urgh! I still can't believe I thought it was Makedon at the end of the second book. I dunno, for some reason, I was so sure of it that, when I started this fic, I checked his name on the list at the beginning of the book. Not only that, but I think it made sense in my head because otherwise, who the heck would have been Makedon? (I'm still confused there too, I lent my book to a friend, so I can't check right now). I mean, it was easy to reunite with Nikandros later if it was Makedon who came to see Damen/Laurent, but if it was Nikandros who came, then my brain didn't know who Makedon could be.

 

Anyway, I'm rambling here and I'm not sure it's even understandable, sorry about that. Sigh...

 

All that to say, because I've been trying to introduce Nikandros' character in my story and, the way I was writing him felt so off to me. That's when I realised that Makedon should have been Nikandros all this time and vice versa. 

 

So I'm going to do the change. From now on, in the earlier chapters, it's going to be Nikandros, and not Makedon. And when I'll be introducing "Makedon", it'll be a new character and it'll be him for real this time.

 

Hope you guys will forgive me... Ha ha ha...

 

I'll try and be done with chapter 10 as soon as possible as a better apology.

 

See you guys!


	11. Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a friendly reminder! The character Makedon from my earlier chapters is now Nikandros. There's a new character I'm introducing at the end of the chapter. This will be the new Makedon.
> 
> Again, sorry for the confusion!

They hadn’t taken two steps that they were stopped by another person coming in. They froze as they saw Laurent’s uncle walk inside the hospital room, a small bouquet of flowers in hand.

 

It was frustrating how seeing such a simple gesture so normal towards family members, an action any person would usually take whenever they heard a person they cared about was in the hospital, made Damen’s resolve waver a little. Laurent’s uncle looked actually worried there, a bit dishevelled as though he’d hurried to the room because he’d just heard of his nephew’s hospitalization.

 

But it was easy to remember how that man had almost poisoned Damen and how he had done it to Laurent. It wasn’t difficult then to push away the doubts, especially when he saw Laurent tense up ever so slightly at the sight of his uncle.

 

“What are you doing here?” Laurent hissed, straightening up.

 

“What am I doing here? I call you on your cellphone, a nurse answers me and tells me you’ve been brought to the hospital, and you ask why I’m here? Why haven’t I been called sooner?”

 

Laurent tsked in annoyance, looking briefly to the side in irk, and Damen finally understood why he had been under the impression that Laurent wanted to leave the hospital as fast as he could.

 

Laurent held his head high, haughtily.

 

“Because there was no need for you here. I knew I would get discharged soon enough, so there was no point to call you, nor make you come. Besides, I didn’t want you here.”

 

The hand holding the flowers tightened into a fist, crushing them a little. The man’s eyebrows turned into a frown, his mouth pursed in displease.

 

“I’ve had enough of your tantrums, Laurent. Do you have any idea how worried I was when I heard the news?” he hissed. “Frankly, I should call myself lucky, considering that if you had been the one to answer, you would have pretended that nothing was wrong! I’m your uncle, I should be aware of those things! This is ridiculous, Laurent. Why do you always make things so difficult for me?”

 

“I’m an adult, I can take care of myself,” Laurent calmly answered.

 

“That is not the point! It is obvious I would want to make certain you are alright, whether you are an adult or not – and trust me, your behaviour says otherwise.”

 

Damen frowned as well, sensing that something was not adding up.

 

“Then why didn’t you come yesterday? You said you got the news then. If you were so worried, why did you not visit when you heard the news?”

 

The older man stopped pacing and he turned his head to Damen as though he had just noticed him.

 

“I did. Unfortunately, when I arrived, visiting hours were already over and they did not allow me to go see him. So instead, I rushed this morning the minute I could.”

 

“But you had time to get flowers on the way,” Damen pointed out, finding that this story was turning out to have a few loopholes.

 

“And you called yesterday afternoon. I fail to see how you wouldn’t be able to come before visiting hours,” Laurent added.

 

“What is this, an interrogation?” Laurent’s uncle exclaimed furiously. “I had an appointment I couldn’t get away from. And yes, I went to get flowers. I was aware that he would be discharged soon. Even though I made it as fast as I could, I still wanted to give a present to my _nephew_ , the boy in my _custody_ , so that he would know I wished him to get well soon. Because words don’t seem to do much with him.”

 

Damen frowned deeper.

 

“It might have sank in a little more if you’d taken time from whatever it was you were doing to come to your nephew’s side,” he retorted.

 

Laurent’s uncle dropped the flowers on the nearest nightstand, as though disgusted.

 

“I’m surprised. I thought you two weren’t in good terms, but suddenly you’re cooperating. I have a feeling Laurent brainwashed you, Damen. God knows he is skilful at that. What did he say, that I’m plotting against him?”

 

Damen started, not expecting Laurent’s uncle to actually state that particular theory. What could this mean? That this was the truth and the man was bluffing? Or that Laurent really was accusing him falsely...?

 

“Damen, I don’t know why he does it, but Laurent always looks for my demise. I do nothing but my best at taking care of him, but he makes things very difficult for me. He acts like a child, you have seen it with your very own eyes. Time and time again, might I add, I’m positively certain of it. And you now believe him?”

 

The earlier part of himself that wavered crawled back, whispering how right the man was, how Laurent had been nothing but irritating, frustrating, puerile...

 

Damen turned his gaze to Laurent and realised his flatmate was actually not observing him this time. His stance was strong, unwavering, preparing him for something...

 

Preparing him for Damen switching sides. For Damen not believing him anymore. For Damen to betray him...

 

Well Damen wasn’t about to do it.

 

He stepped forward, shoulders straight, eyes determined. He placed himself in front of Laurent and pointed an accusatory finger towards the latter’s uncle.

 

“Get out of here.”

 

The older man froze, taken aback. He opened his mouth in disbelief.

 

“What?!”

 

“I said get out of here,” Damen repeated with force. “Frankly, I think you’re nothing but bad news. In any case, Laurent doesn’t want you here and it’s his right. You’ve done some things that I’m wary of. I don’t have proofs, unfortunately. But if anything, the fact that you came here to see Laurent when Laurent didn’t want you to is an invasion of privacy that you should not have breached. So get out of here!”

 

Anger was rapidly taking over Laurent’s uncle’s features and he took a step forward, intimidating.

 

“I think I haven’t made myself quite clear, I...”

 

But Damen cut him off, taking his cellphone from his pocket and holding it in a position to make a call.

 

“No, apparently I’ve been the one not clear enough. I have many friends in the police force. I can call them and they’ll gladly come here to help. So it’s either that or you _scram_!”

 

Laurent’s uncle was fuming. His skin was red with rage, fists white with the pressure of clenching them. For a moment, Damen thought that the man might hit him. Damen was ready for it though. If he did, Damen would call Jord immediately.

 

But in the end, Laurent’s uncle turned around and left, storming away. It wasn’t until they couldn’t hear his footfalls that Damen relaxed and placed the cellphone back in his pocket. He then looked back at Laurent who, in return, stared at him with one of his unreadable look.

 

A staring contest was held between the two for a while, no one saying anything, but Laurent was the first to break contact, walking forward to the exit.

 

“Let’s go,” he merely said.

 

Damen sighed. He hadn’t expected a thank you or anything, but some sort of gratitude would have been nice. Guess it was too much to ask.

 

Without a word, he followed Laurent out.

  

* * *

 

It was the second time they both walked side by side to get back to the flat, and the feeling was as surreal as before. What was even more shocking was how he finally managed to come to terms with Laurent.

 

Of course, it wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine from now on either. The bus ride from the hospital to the stop nearest to the flat had been nothing but awkward. Both had been silent, Damen wondering if he should say something to break the tension or keep his mouth shut. But after what happened at the hospital, he thought it might be best not to.

 

In the end, he never gathered the courage for small talk, knowing that Laurent would most likely not answer him anyway, or at best only in clipped words. There was still work to do if Damen wanted the both of them to be somewhere along the lines of friends, but he wasn’t afraid. He knew they could finally get there.

 

When they arrived, removing coats and shoes, the first thing Laurent did was get to the cupboard in the kitchen where he’d stored the wine bottle. He took it out, opened it and made to pour the liquid in the sink. Damen, seeing all this, rushed to him in panic.

 

“Wait!!” he exclaimed before his flatmate could empty the bottle’s content.

 

Laurent frowned, irked, but stopped in mid-movement nonetheless, waiting for the reason why Damen halted him so vehemently.

 

“Don’t get rid of it! I have friends in the police, remember? I can get it to them and they can analyse it to gather some proof out of it.”

 

Laurent raised an eyebrow, then sighed, shaking his head.

 

“That won’t help. I know my uncle. He plans everything ahead. He wouldn’t do a simple mistake as to leave any proofs. He probably made sure the poison was mixed in the wine while it was made, making it impossible to trace him.”

 

Laurent checked the label on the bottle.

 

“I noticed it quickly as well, but this wine was made by a rival company. Which means that if any proofs were found, it would be towards the vineyard that made the wine. So not only would my uncle be free of any charges, he would also have framed a rival company and hit it with a low blow. All in all, it’s a win-win situation for him.”

 

Well, that was certainly frustrating. But Damen was not about to admit defeat.

 

“But that would mean he lied to me. He specifically said that he brought a wine from one of your most famous vineyards. If he tries to claim that it was from his rivals, then I can say he lied.”

 

Laurent raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

 

“He can always say he was in a hurry and grabbed the wrong bottle while not checking the label. The logo is kind of similar to one of ours, so it’s easy to mistake. You’ve seen how he acts. He works his way out of everything with planned excuses!”

 

Damen sighed.

 

“Maybe, but you never know. I could even ask them to open a case.”

 

Laurent stared at him with a dubious look mixed with gratuitous mockery.

 

“In France? You do realize we’re not in the same country, right? It’s not the same jurisdiction either. They won’t open an international case just for this.”

 

Damen frowned, realizing that what he’d said had indeed been stupid and not well thought of – or at all. Still, he extended his hand towards Laurent, gesturing for him to give him the bottle.

 

Laurent rolled his eyes, but despite his annoyance, screwed the bottle shut and handed it to Damen’s outstretched hand. Damen was thankful for it. Every little bit could help, even if Laurent might not believe so.

 

Just in case, Damen brought the bottle in his room and hid it for the time being, a little paranoid over the fact that Laurent could well decide to get rid of it in his absence.

 

When he returned, Laurent was sitting at the table, toying with what looked to be an old newspaper page. It was wrinkled everywhere, implying that it had been handled a lot through the many, many years, judging by its yellow appearance. From his bedroom, Damen could see there was a picture and, as he approached, saw it was a car heavily crashed, a lot of its remains on the road. Whatever had happened to it, it had been _bad_.

 

Silently, Damen slid in the chair in front of Laurent, waiting for him to speak. The latter seemed to be toying with the paper, folding and unfolding the corner, the piece easily complying as though it had many times before. And surely it did, the way Laurent then smoothed the paper.

 

How many times had he done this? That paper looked important to Laurent, almost sacred from the way Damen managed to gather from his roommate’s gaze. Judging by the photo, Damen had an inkling as to what this really was.

 

Laurent moved his hand on top of the article, as though to slide it towards Damen, but stopped once he touched it. Maybe Damen was wrong, but he thought Laurent looked... nervous. Surely he was, if Damen really guessed the article’s content.

 

“First off, I need to... thank you,” he said softly.

 

It startled Damen to hear Laurent use such a tone. It felt surreal.

 

“I didn’t think you would stand up for me back at the hospital. Until today, you never gave me any type of signs you would believe me instead of him. And with the way he smooth-talked his way out of anything, I was certain he would be able to make you waver. But... you didn’t. You stood up for me. And that is more than I expected you would ever do.”

 

Somehow, despite the thanks, Damen found he was offended anyway. The way Laurent turned his words made it hard to find the thanks gratifying.

 

But still, this was Laurent and he might have difficulties with showing any kind of emotions and use specific words in order to do so. Damen decided that he should take the thanking as it was.

 

He returned the gratitude with a dubious look.

 

For the first time, Damen managed to annoy Laurent the same way Laurent did Damen on many occasions in the past.

 

“What?” Laurent snapped.

 

Damen shrugged.

 

“Nothing. I just never expected you to thank me, that’s all.”

 

“I’m not an uncivilised ape like you!” Laurent retorted with a sneer. “I can give credit where it is due, you know!”

 

“Didn’t feel like it before,” Damen muttered in the hand holding his chin, elbow resting on the table, ignoring the insult.

 

It felt good to be on the inflicting side of annoyance. Even if it was puerile. Damen smirked.

 

Laurent sent him a nasty glare before he seemed to recollect himself. He glanced back at the newspaper and played with one of the corners again before he once more smoothed it out. He took another breath.

 

“I know you’ve heard me at the restaurant when I was talking with your friend,” Laurent stated.

 

Damen suddenly looked away, feeling of shame washing through him, but he found with surprised that guilt did not surface. He could not detect any trace of accusation in Laurent’s tone, which was even more of a shock to Damen. Laurent merely stated it as a fact, as though it didn’t bother him.

 

“If you remember, I mentioned that my father died, many years ago.”

 

This time, he handed the newspaper to Damen. The latter took it and glanced at it, but when he found that it was obviously in a language he could not read – French most certainly – he stared back at Laurent instead.

 

“He died in a car accident when I was thirteen. What I failed to mention, however, was that along with him were both my mother and brother.”

 

Damen froze. Somehow he had known, for why else would Laurent be under his uncle’s custody if one of his parents were still alive, but to hear that all of his family had died the same day was heartbreaking indeed. What must it feel like to one moment have all of your close ones be alive and well and, in the next, lose them forever?

 

Devastating would certainly be a start.

 

“I wasn’t in it, otherwise I would be gone with them.”

 

There was emptiness in Laurent’s voice and for a brief instant, Damen wondered if Laurent sometimes wished he could have been in that accident as well. The thought made Damen uncomfortable and he squirmed in his chair, skin crawling.

 

He, at the very least, was grateful that Laurent was here. It may not have been roses and sunshine until now, but Damen found he could not care. Despite everything, he appreciated Laurent’s presence.

 

“It was gruesome. They were hit by a truck, from the looks of it, with no chance of survival. The strangest of it all was the fact that no one was on that particular road until at least half-an-hour later, leaving them with no chance of survival.”

 

Damen looked at the picture closer and saw that, indeed, the accident must have been a complete horror. The car was completely broken down, the bonnet where the back passenger’s seats should be, doors and glass everywhere on the pavement.

 

“And you think your uncle’s behind it,” Damen stated matter-of-factly, returning his attention to Laurent.

 

The latter raised an eyebrow, as though surprised of Damen’s insight. It irked Damen who rolled his eyes in response.

 

“Would you quit that?” he asked. “I’m not as stupid as you think, you know?”

 

Laurent smirked briefly, but then it vanished and he looked elsewhere.

 

“I’m merely surprised you would come to that conclusion when you’ve been so vehement on not believing me the last time.”

 

“We talked about this at the hospital. I apologised. You clearly have something to back this up, just as much as you knew your uncle tried to poison us, especially you. If you think he did this, I’m ready to listen to your reasons.”

 

Laurent rested his chin in his hand, elbow on the table, as he gauged Damen, then sighed.

 

“The problem is that, this time, I have not much more than feeling and a few conversations to back me up, otherwise he would already be rotting in prison, at best. I’ve been investigating for proofs without much success in the last years. My uncle is very good at hide and seek, you see.”

 

He stopped, once more taking in Damen’s expression, as though he expected Damen to abandon him now that he had nothing to support his claim. What he hadn’t thought of was the fact that Damen understood Laurent couldn’t have much proofs, otherwise Laurent wouldn’t be in this mess.

 

“I’m still listening,” he encouraged.

 

Laurent was taken aback once more and, for a brief second, looked to be at a loss for words. But it was gone too quickly, making Damen wonder if it had been a figment of his imagination.

 

“A few days before the accident, I heard my father and uncle fight. I don’t remember much about the argument, unfortunately, but I know it was serious enough to make them shout and to bring my father to the point that he would fire my uncle from the company. My uncle didn’t take it well, threatening my father in return. It was ugly. Strangely enough, the accident happened a few days later, conveniently just before my father could officially discharge my uncle. I don’t think they knew I was there listening, otherwise I might have been in that accident as well.”

 

There was a silence, Laurent’s face thoughtful.

 

“Then again, I might not have either. He clearly needed me. It was stated in my father’s will that the company would belong to one of his sons until they were of age and that, until then, my uncle would be the one to take the reins. Since my brother Auguste was of age, he had no choice but to make use of me instead of him.”

 

Damen was disgusted. How could a man toy with his family so easily? But he kept quiet for the time being, wanting Laurent to finish his story beforehand.

 

“I didn’t think of it for a long while. I had just lost my family and he was, after all, my uncle. But then, after a while, I began to doubt. He started doing little things that felt off and I remembered that fight all those years ago, and wondered again why my father would want to fire his own brother. I began to investigate, searching everywhere I could, gathering information that could back my feeling and incriminate this man. However he...” Laurent paused, chewing at his lower lip, then shook his head. “He began to suspect me, I think. I feared it would hinder my investigation, and so I thought it best if I did it away. That’s why I enrolled here a little late. I thought that by going to Cambridge without telling him, I would be able to escape his grasp for a while.”

 

“Turns out he made researches of his own and found me anyway.”

 

Laurent grimaced, then toyed once more with the article Damen had handed back to him earlier.

 

Damen was fuming. This was horrible! How could someone be so despicable? Laurent’s uncle was so wicked and disgusting that he would go to the extent of killing and taking advantage of his own family to gain power over a company. What could be going through that man’s brain to make it ok to murder in cold blood for, what... power, prestige and money?

 

Damen couldn’t even begin to understand. He wanted to puke.

 

Still, he didn’t mention any of it to Laurent, seeing that his roommate was not entirely done with his speech.

 

“Even though it’s been... easier to be away, it was harder to try and gather proofs. I searched everywhere I could for papers he would have sent to anyone, for any kind of bad deals he would have done with shady people, or for the very commands he would have sent to whoever killed my parents and brother. There are places, however, I was not able to investigate, namely his computer. And now, I won’t have much of a chance to since I’m so far away from it,” Laurent explained bitterly.

 

Damen was suddenly struck with an idea and his eyes illuminated a little.

 

“You know what? I might be able to help with that!”

 

* * *

 

“You were not joking when you said you had a lot of friends in the police force,” Laurent commented as he watched the newcomer in front of him.

 

Damen chuckled, nodding his agreement.

 

“Yeah. Bit of a coincidence, actually. Nikandros is a childhood friend, Jord is a friend of the family, and Makedon here was my previous flatmate.”

 

“Coincidence, really?” Laurent hummed, entirely unconvinced.

 

Damen raised an eyebrow, uncertain as to why Laurent wouldn’t believe him. His flatmate knew that they were both studying in the same major, namely Economics, which had nothing to do with police forces.

 

“You know I’m working to inherit my father’s company, just like you.”

 

Laurent shrugged.

 

“Yes, that’s what you keep saying. Still, I thought this kind of job would suit the ape. Since you’re not the brightest light either, I merely thought you hadn’t figured it out yet. Oh well.”

 

Damen rubbed the bridge of his nose, pushing away the urge to snap. Some things never changed.

 

“I thought we were done with the insults,” he muttered annoyingly, but Laurent ignored him.

 

They still had a long way to go.

 

A cough behind Damen had him start and whirl his head to the side where Makedon stood with an amused smile. Makedon had watched the entire exchange without a word, merely observing the two, and seemed to have a blast out of it. Trust Makedon to draw pleasure out of Damen’s demise.

 

“Anyway, yes, Laurent, this here is Makedon. He works in a similar division than Nikandros and Jord. He was employed just this year into the police force, right after university, because he’s a lucky bastard.”

 

Makedon tilted his head, arching an eyebrow, but otherwise kept quiet, letting Damen finish his introduction.

 

“I also guess they might have hired him for quick understanding of the cases they work on,” Damen finished with a shrug.

 

This time, Makedon jabbed Damen in the side with his elbow. Damen didn’t have much time to dodge, but still laughed at the pain.

 

“Ouch, hey!” he said between his laughter. “So yeah, Makedon’s also a genius when it comes to computers. It’s a hobby of his. And we’re not supposed to say it out loud, but he would be able to hack into almost anything. Makedon’s not the type to do it just for the heck of it, but if it’s to help with your case, he would be more than willing to do it.”

 

Finally, Makedon extended his hand towards Laurent who took it in return, nodding at Makedon. They shook hands briefly before releasing each other.

 

“Damen explained the situation to me in general, so I have a little idea of what you need, but I’m not aware of every little detail. He told me it was best if you did most of the explaining since it was sort of a private matter for you. If you’d like, we could discuss about it, clarify what you need, then I could show you what I’m capable of, so that you can judge by yourself if you’d like to make use of my services or not.”

 

Laurent took in Makedon, then raised an eyebrow at Damen.

 

“I’m impressed,” he said. “I believed you would rat everything out. Didn’t think you were capable of keeping some things to yourself.”

 

“Will you stop already?!” Damen complained loudly, throwing a hand in the air in exasperation.

 

Laurent merely shrugged before crossing his arms and assessing Makedon once more, analysing the situation, surely considering every option he had and what were the advantages as well as the downsides.

 

Damen was getting to know Laurent a little and that was one thing he understood from the guy; he examined every facet of a problem until it was completely dissected, then looked to every possible option and planned each of them before he made a move.

 

It was both impressing and frightening.

 

“Not that I doubt your capacities, but the computer I need you to get into will not be an easy task. I am certain it is well protected. Not only that, but we cannot leave a single trace, otherwise, we are done for, quite literally. I just need you to be aware of that before I make you do anything,” Laurent warned, face unchanging.

 

Makedon smirked, hands on hips.

 

“Oooh, a challenge. I like that!”

 

Laurent arched an eyebrow once again, unimpressed, before he turned to Damen.

 

“I’m not certain that I want someone who takes this case as a game to help me,” he trailed off, annoyance dripping from his tone.

 

“Well, someone’s having a hard time to lighten up,” Makedon muttered with a sigh, shaking his head. “But look, I get how important this is for you. Damen mentioned it as well. I _will_ be careful and nothing short of professional. I also understand that this is kind of a dire situation, so I’ll do my best to get what you need. I didn’t mean to give you the impression that this was a game for me. It’s not.”

 

This time, Laurent was all ears, posture easing a little.

 

“Very well. If you are ready to get into this, then I will gladly accept your help.”

 

Damen watched the exchange and couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that struck him. How long had it taken for Laurent to accept his help when all it took from Makedon were a few words? Of course, the situation wasn’t the same and Laurent was a little desperate for Makedon’s skills, but still, Damen wished it could have been that easy between Laurent and him.

 

“Good. We’ll start by this; do you happen to have the IP address of the computer I need to hack?” Makedon asked, oblivious to his friend’s struggle.

 

“If I had, I would have found a hacker sooner than this,” Laurent retorted with a huff.

 

“Well, it was worth a try. Then I’ll need as much information on the person and computer I need to hack so that I can do my research and find an access to the computer.”

 

Laurent nodded, uncrossed his arms and bade for Makedon to follow him.

 

“Very well. I might have a thing or two. Let’s go in my room, it’ll be easier.”

 

Damen felt the pat Makedon gave him on the shoulder before the latter followed Laurent in his bedroom. Damen watched them go with another pang of jealousy, wondering once again why Laurent was letting someone else help him so easily when it had taken everything out of Damen to finally get Laurent to accept his own.

 

Well, that was unfair indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a little longer to post. It was finished some time ago, but I was editing, and there were a few things that bugged me and I couldn't unblock until now.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed it! Laurent finally reveals a bit more about himself, yay!
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone who leave kudos and comments. It's truly appreciated!


	12. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget, Makedon's been changed for Nikandros! After reading Kings Rising, I believe this was the right decision lol.

The end of the term was just around the corner and both Damen and Laurent found themselves without any kind of free time, what with one of the two having to work shifts at the pub while the other renewed his efforts in gathering information about his uncle, now that he had been given a solution to his problem that might actually function.

 

Damen worked on his essays and homework mostly back at the flat where he felt most comfortable, although he did make a few trips to the University’s library whenever he needed extra information. That was usually where he spotted Laurent, alone at a table and surrounded by too many books to actually just be for his courses.

 

It intrigued Damen, but whenever he asked about it, Laurent merely answered that he liked to be prepared for any eventuality, which only left Damen with even more questions.

 

Well, if Laurent didn’t want to talk about it, it was no use trying to extract it out of him. Laurent wouldn’t talk anyway. It also reminded Damen that Laurent didn’t consider them friends yet, which was both saddening and frustrating.

 

It made Damen renew his efforts in another aspect, however. On the many occasions their paths crossed, Damen would ask Laurent if he wanted them to study together. It might make it more bearable and they could always exchange and debate if Laurent found himself having questions while he worked on his own essays. Damen had, after all, already gone through those courses the year before.

 

“No thank you. I already manage on my own and I find I am more productive alone. I would only get distracted and I cannot afford it.”

 

His tone was deadpanned and serious, leaving no place for discussion. Damen frowned, somehow feeling as though he had been insulted once again, and wondered if it was true or he only imagined it because he was used to it by now. Laurent’s expression was unreadable, of course, making the matter harder to solve.

 

Damen decided to let that go for now, and put his efforts elsewhere. Mainly deciding to join Laurent by force the next time he saw him studying, showing Laurent that it couldn’t be such a bad idea.

 

On Damen’s first try, Laurent happened to be inside the flat, using the kitchen table while Damen studied in his room. Damen came out, pretending to get himself a cup of coffee. While he waited for his drink, he approached Laurent who was deeply engrossed in his notes.

 

“Oh, you’re on the Dominant Firm Model. That part was interesting,” Damen said with a smile, studying the graphic Laurent currently worked on.

 

Damen frowned a little, tilting his head to the side as he watched Laurent’s graphic and formulas.

 

“Wait, I’m curious, why are you using this formula here? Shouldn’t it be MCf here?”

 

Laurent sighed, but never turned his gaze away from his books.

 

“Not if we take into account the static limit pricing, no, since the Dominant Market would make certain that the Fringe Market wouldn’t be able to enter.”

 

Damen felt his cheeks redden as Laurent gave him the long explanation of his formula, a loud and clear message that he didn’t need Damen’s help and would appreciate not to have any form of it. With a sigh, Damen was glad to hear the coffee pot release the last of the coffee, saving him from the lecture he didn’t quite need.

 

He left Laurent alone after that, returning to his room, but not before leaving a cup of coffee on the kitchen table as a peace offering.

 

The next time Damen tried, he saw Laurent studying at the library. Damen made a B-line to his table and sat there, making some space for his own stuff without asking. Laurent merely lifted his gaze, watching him carefully, before he returned to his papers. Damen believed he had won this time, but Laurent got up with one of his books to head for the shelves and didn’t return even after some time. Damen stood as well, confused, and searched for his flatmate, only to find him reading in one of the sofas on the other side of the library.

 

Damen sighed, but still returned to the table to check on their things until Laurent decided to come back to gather his own and leave.

 

There were other attempts, but they all ended up in failure. Damen really should have gotten the message by now, but he was learning a tendency towards masochism. He couldn’t help but try harder.

 

Maybe it was because Laurent wasn’t insulting or infuriating him in his rejections.

 

He considered it a victory, however, when one day, as he focused on an essay while at his favourite cafe, bored out of his mind and getting a little discouraged, Laurent plopped in the comfortable seat in front of him. He placed a cup of coffee on the table, took out some of his books and his own computer, then proceeded to ignore Damen’s surprised, but gloating look at the sight of him.

 

Damen wanted to ask questions, wanted to whoop in joy, but settled instead for grinning in triumph, knowing that the other two options would only chase Laurent away.

 

It was a first.

 

* * *

 

“You’ll be going back for the Holidays?” Damen asked as they were both sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in hand.

 

His mind at ease since most of their essays were already handed, Damen was nursing his cup between both palms, appreciating the warmth it radiated. It felt both surreal and nice to be here like this with Laurent in front of him actually being civil. It almost felt like they were friends, but there was this wall Laurent still kept tightly wound around himself, refusing to let go of it, making it impossible for them to yet be anything more than acquaintances.

 

It was more than they ever had been before, however, so Damen would take anything he could get.

 

Laurent nodded slowly, deep in thought.

 

“Yes. Since the term is almost over, I need to go back. I have a few things I need to take care of, namely the ‘job’ he still has left for me. I’ll have to see how I can turn it out to my advantage.”

 

Damen tilted his head.

 

“What kind of job did he give you anyway? I can’t think of any that could be important enough while only having to work on it during the Holidays.”

 

Laurent’s face soured at the words.

 

“That’s because it’s not. He gave me trifles, an insignificant job. He might as well have given me nothing, it would have been the same. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m less relevant than an accountant.”

 

Damen grimaced in return, feeling sorry for Laurent. It mustn’t be easy to be downgraded like so when you worked really hard to achieve a higher goal.

 

“I don’t know if you would, but in case you need any pointers, you could always text me during the Holidays. I’ve worked a few times in my father’s company. It would also be a good way to stay in contact while we’re both away in our families.”

 

Damen expected Laurent to refuse, to scoff at him or laugh in his face for the dumb idea. Laurent was so used to do everything alone.

 

But instead of doing any of that, Laurent regarded Damen carefully, features completely neutral, before he reached for his cellphone in his pocket and handed it to Damen.

 

The latter was unprepared for this outcome, so he froze. He didn’t move until Laurent shook the phone, arching an eyebrow in impatience, before Damen took it. He quickly gave it back to Laurent, then asked his flatmate to send him a text so that Damen could save the number into his own phone.

 

When it was done, Damen stared at his phone in wonder. He couldn’t actually believe that he had Laurent’s number now. They could actually text and call each other whenever they wanted.

 

Not that Damen expected Laurent to actually do so, and Damen would be too wary of Laurent’s mood to actually try more than once, but it was satisfying nonetheless. It was another step taken towards actual friendship.

 

Damen smiled goofily. In return, Laurent frowned.

 

“Don’t expect too much out of this,” Laurent stated, turning his gaze away.

 

It didn’t dampen Damen’s mood, who only grinned harder.

 

* * *

 

Damen was back in London the day following the end of the term. He was glad to be back home, even if a little disappointed that it meant he and Laurent had to go their separate ways.

 

It took him aback how the thought easily made its way in his mind. Only a few weeks ago, it wouldn’t have existed. Instead, he would actually have been glad to be rid of the annoyance that was Laurent.

 

But now that things had settled down, Damen found that he really enjoyed Laurent’s company.

 

It was a nice feeling.

 

He crossed the threshold to his house and called out his arrival cheerfully. Immediately, his mother was in the hall, greeting him happily, helping him move his case and kissing his cheeks lovingly. He chuckled, embracing her in return, glad for her presence. As much as he enjoyed living outside the family house, being a grown man with the need to have his own life, as much as he sometimes missed his mother. Being in her presence reassured every worry he could ever have.

 

Hypermenestria, at the age of 49, still looked no older than 30. With her skin as dark as Damen’s and her curly long hair the colour of a raven, it almost looked like Damen took most of his features from her. If it were not for the fact that she was not really his mother. The only difference between them was the height and the color of their eyes. Those were the traits he took after his father.

 

And apparently, his real mother had somewhat looked alike Hypermenestria. Apparently, his father had a type.

 

Theomedes and Hypermenestria had first been together during their college years. Together, they had a baby, Kastor, Damen’s step-brother. Things didn’t work out too well, however, when his father had to move away from Greece and Hypermestria couldn’t follow. They had to go their separate ways.

 

That was where Theomedes met Damen’s mother and married her. Everything was going fine, until she died short after giving birth to Damen. He had no memory of her, which saddened him a little. But he had been lucky enough that through a fortunate chain of circumstance Theomedes and Hypemenestria found each other again. This time, she followed him back to England and gladly accepted Damen as her own son, taking care of him as she would Kastor.

 

Which was why Damen viewed her as nothing less than his own mother.

 

“Ah, Damen, welcome home _Agoraki mou_. How was your trip?”

 

“Good, thank you,” he replied with a smile, already grabbing his luggage so that he could bring them to his room.

 

It was left the same way it had been the previous time he was here. That was a nice feeling too, the one where you knew that, despite how much time you spent away, you’d always have a home to come back to.

 

He joined his mother back into the kitchen, two cup of steaming tea waiting for them. The sweet scent of it comforted him immediately and he couldn’t help but think _I’m home_ as he sat down.

 

“So, how is school?” Hypermenestria asked as she sat across him, taking a sip from her own tea.

 

“It’s good. I’m not doing so bad at the moment and I keep my grades up. It’s not the easiest term so far, but I manage.”

 

“That’s good to hear,” his mother replied with a nod. “Besides, as long as you do your best, I’m certain it doesn’t matter to your father if you’re not at the top in each of your courses.”

 

Thankfully. Not that Damen wasn’t very smart, but he wasn’t _that_ smart. Not _Laurent_ smart.

 

Speaking of which...

 

“And how about that new roommate of yours? Kastor told us it was a little difficult between the two of you.”

 

Damen could hear the reproach in her voice, the same kind a mother would use whenever their children would fight for no reason. It was a tone of voice that told Damen he’d better have a damn good reason for the fighting, otherwise she’d be disappointed in him and nothing would stop her from lecturing him.

 

“It’s actually gotten better,” he said with a smile.

 

He was relieved to see the frown melt, replaced with satisfaction.

 

“We didn’t get along at first and it was a little hard to. He was being unpleasant, I was being judgemental... But some things happened and we managed to reach an agreement. Now, it’s liveable and I think I wouldn’t mind having him as a roommate for the remaining of university.”

 

“Good, I’m glad to hear it!” Hypermenestria replied, pleased with the outcome. “It wouldn’t do for you two to not even get along when you barely know each other. I didn’t raise you to be _judgemental_ , after all,” she drawled, accentuating the word while Damen chuckled nervously, looking away.

 

He took a sip of his tea in order to hide the colours in his cheeks, his mind furiously searching for another subject to breach so that his mother would leave him alone about Laurent.

 

“So... where’s dad? Did he go to work?” he asked, hoping she’d take the bait.

 

He was a little worried when he saw her smile fall and her hold on her cup tighten.

 

“Well, Damen, your father...”

 

She was cut by the sound of the entrance door opening and closing, loud footsteps echoing inside as feet were hit against each other to remove the snow under them.

 

“Hey mom! I’m home!”

 

Damen recognized the voice as Kastor’s and the worry he’d felt about his mother’s expression was pushed aside for the moment when he and Hypermenestria both stood to go great the newcomer.

 

Kastor was dusting the snow off his winter hat before he removed it, then slid out of his boots and removed his coat. It was only when Hypermenestria approached him to greet him and he raised his head to kiss her cheek that he realised she was not alone. His surprised look was laced with a small smile.

 

“Oh, hey Damen! Didn’t realise you’d be here by now. When did you arrive?”

 

Damen returned the smile, glad to see Kastor. He’d always admired him, even if they were only step-brothers. It had never felt that way to Damen. Being six years older than him, Kastor had always been a role model, someone he wished he could follow in his footsteps. The way Kastor had taken care of him had only reinforced it as well. They’d been close all their lives.

 

“Just a few minutes ago, actually. I just had the time to put my luggage back in my room, then me and mom got to speak a little.”

 

Kastor grinned, turning his head to Hypermenestria.

 

“Hope he didn’t give you too much of a hard time,” he teased.

 

Damen rolled his eyes.

 

“What do I look like? Six years old?”

 

Kastor placed a hand on his heart and closed his eyes solemnly.

 

“You shall always be a little monster of six in my heart,” he stated.

 

“Hey!” Damen protested.

 

He hit Kastor with a friendly punch on the shoulder before they both started laughing.

 

It really was good to be home. With his parents here and Kastor visiting from time to time during the Holidays, they were bound to spend a wonderful Christmas and have a blast. There were a few things Damen wanted to catch up with Kastor too and he was excited about it. They hadn’t spoken much since the beginning of the semester, except for a few texts, so it would be fun.

 

He heard the door open once more and he lifted his head, thinking it might be his dad coming from work. He froze, however, when he saw a petite figure entering, dusting the snow from her long blond hair, face drawn in concentration as she did so.

 

“Kastor, you could have waited for me,” she whined with a pout. “I was – oh... Hi Damen.”

 

Jokaste had finally turned her eyes towards Damen and realised who exactly he was. She didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed as she greeted him and it was all it took from him not to snap at her.

 

He’d forgotten. He had completely forgotten about her. About her _and_ Kastor. Nikandros had warned him about them, but he had been so angry about it that he could do nothing but try to deny, not until Kastor talked about it to him. Not only that, but he had been preoccupied by so much lately that the matter had been shoved into a dark corner of his mind until it would reappear.

 

And now, it was blowing up in his face and everything prove to be true. Not only had Nikandros been telling the truth – not that Damen thought his friend would lie to him; Nikandros could have misheard – but Kastor hadn’t found the decency to even _tell_ him and explain the situation.

 

“So it’s true,” Damen said bitterly. “You two really are a thing now.”

 

Kastor sighed heavily, scratching the back of his head, looking as though having to explain all this to Damen was nothing but a chore. Damen saw it plainly on his brother’s features and to watch it actually _hurt_.

 

“Look, Damen,” Kastor started, avoiding Damen’s eyes, mouth frozen in a faint scowl.

 

“No, no, don’t bother,” Damen cut him immediately, taking a step back. “I mean, it’s not like my brother and my... _friend_ ,” he said, hoping Jokaste would understand the meaning, because he couldn’t well possibly tell in front of his mother what kind of relationship they used to have, “whom I had no idea even knew each other, needed to at least tell me that they frequented each other to the point that they wanted to get together. I mean, what would be the point, not like it’s my business anyway.”

 

“Damen...” Jokaste sighed in exasperation.

 

Her eyes were on him, weary, and told him that he was acting like a child. He didn’t care. He felt betrayed and he believed he had a right to it.

 

“Look, can we just talk about this later?” Kastor asked, pointing to Hypermenestria who was observing the three of them with reproach.

 

Especially Damen. That got him to calm down, even though the bitterness lingered.

 

“Fine...” he merely muttered, preparing to leave.

 

He stopped, however, when Kastor spoke to their mother while placing his coat into the wardrobe, doing the same with Jokaste’s.

 

“How’s dad been doing? Is he feeling any better?” he asked.

 

“Not so much. He’s resting at the moment. He went to see the doctor yesterday, but they can’t seem to pinpoint what’s wrong with him exactly.”

 

Damen felt iciness rush over him, his skin crawling with bad feeling. What were they saying? Could he have truly heard right? He couldn’t have, could he?

 

“What?” he said as he turned around, staring at both his mother and brother, incredulous. “What’s wrong with dad?”

 

“Oh, _Agoraki mou_ , it’s nothing to worry about yet. Your father’s just been feeling ill lately and...”

 

“Dad’s sick? And you didn’t bother to tell me?” Damen demanded, the feeling of betrayal only returning full force.

 

Kastor sighed again, and it was enough for the hurt to come back. When had Kastor begun to act this way around him? When had Kastor found it so hard to explain anything to Damen, to give him some news?

 

“Look, we all agreed it was best if we didn’t tell you anything yet. Dad’s just down under the weather, it’s nothing big.”

 

“Oh, so it’s a good reason to keep me in the dark? Nice, way to go!” Damen retorted with spite.

 

Hypermenestria frowned.

 

“Damen, we agreed on this because we didn’t want to worry you while you were studying. You have enough on your plate as is, there was no use adding worry over your father when we don’t even know what it is he has. It might not even be serious at all.”

 

He knew the argument was rather sound, and he might have appreciated it, if it wasn’t for the fact that from the moment Jokaste arrived, Kastor had acted coldly and distant towards Damen.

 

That stung. Deeply.

 

He thought they shared everything. They used to, after all.

 

“No, you’re right, it’s fine!” he said, throwing his arms in the air before turning around. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother anyway.”

 

“Damen, that’s not what we said!” Hypermenestria retorted with exasperation.

 

“Maybe not, but that’s what he thinks.” Damen pointed to Kastor, the latter rolling his eyes. “I’ll go unpack, so I’ll be in my room,” he then muttered.

 

As he left, the last thing he heard Kastor tell his mother was to let him be before Damen closed the door to his room.

 

* * *

 

As he finished unpacking everything, placing the last few pieces of clothing he had taken with him in one of the drawers, Damen heard a soft knock on his door. For a moment, he was tempted to turn them down, not in the mood to talk about what had happened earlier, but he had calmed down while he was unpacking and realised he had overreacted somewhat.

 

It might also be his mother on the other side of that door, and not only would it be rude to ignore her or send her away, he would get an earful out of it for certain.

 

“Come in,” he said with an inaudible sigh, bracing himself.

 

Jokaste was the one to slip inside, closing the door behind her. Damen sighed louder this time, plopping down on his bed after he pushed his suitcase in the corner next to the bed. Jokaste crossed her arms, annoyed.

 

“Is it really how we’re going to do this?” she asked haughtily, her gaze nothing short of disapproving.

 

“Excellent question, I was wondering the same thing!” Damen retorted sarcastically, throwing her a dark look.

 

She rolled her eyes and moved forward, plopping on the bed beside him with more grace than he showed earlier. She threw her hair with the flip of her hand and sighed as loudly as he did, letting her head then fall on Damen’s shoulder. Damen froze and stiffened, dumbfounded by her actions, confused about what the _hell_ she was doing.

 

“Won’t you at least let me explain?” she inquired, her tone uncaring.

 

If she had noted Damen’s unease, she made no sign of it.

 

“We’ve been friends for a while. I thought you might have trusted me.”

 

“Well that’s the thing,” Damen mumbled. “It’s precisely because we’re friends that I’m so furious right now.”

 

Jokaste pouted and gently smacked Damen’s cheek with the back of her hand. Damen protested, finally snapping out of it and pulling away, but it only ended up in Jokaste falling on his lap as he sat further up his bed. She watched him with a serious look, making Damen all the more uncomfortable.

 

Seriously, what was she doing? She was with Kastor now!

 

“Let me explain,” she commanded this time.

 

It annoyed Damen and he threw his hands into the air.

 

“Fine! Then explain already! Not like you’ll leave until you have.”

 

She smacked him again on the cheek and he groaned.

 

“Ow-hey! Stop doing that!”

 

“When you stop being such a child!”

 

He opened his mouth to retort, but realised he would enter her game, and closed it instead, looking away in a curt movement, glaring at the wall instead. Jokaste sighed and rolled her eyes.

 

“Look, I had no idea until a while ago that Kastor was actually your brother.”

 

Damen shot her a dubious look.

 

“I’m serious! You don’t look alike as much as you think!”

 

She moved, making herself more comfortable in his lap. Damen fought the urge to push her off the bed.

 

“Look, the point is, I was in London for certain reasons and Kastor and I met in a cafe. Some things happened, we kinda talked, then we decided to befriend each other. We never mentioned you at that point because we had no idea that the other knew you. We talked over skype, went out a few times when either of us was in London or Cambridge, I found I kinda liked the guy, and since you and I weren’t anything serious and official, I thought I might go for him. It hasn’t been until a few weeks ago, when Kastor mentioned his family for the Holidays, that I realised that his brother was you. By then, I was kinda feeling guilty about it and didn’t know how I would tell you, so I didn’t. It wasn’t really right, but then again, it’s not like I owe you my private life.”

 

Damen had regained his composure, but he was still frustrated and there were a few things that did not make sense to him.

 

“But still, it’s my _brother_ Jokaste. I thought at least hearing it from you, or maybe Kastor, would have been better! I had to hear it from Nikandros! Why did he even know it while I didn’t?”

 

Jokaste combed a few strands out of her face.

 

“He spotted us one day in a cafe. I didn’t get the chance to ask him not to tell you.”

 

Damen didn’t know what was best; that he had heard from Nikandros or that he could have only found out by seeing Kastor and Jokaste both arrive at the house during the Holidays and announce it to Damen abruptly.

 

“Ugh, look, I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want you to react badly and things piled up. But then you reacted badly anyway, so that was pretty much useless.”

 

Damen looked down at her, arching an eyebrow.

 

“Why am I feeling like you’re saying I’m the one in the wrong,” he asked carefully.

 

“Well you’re the one who reacted out of proportion without even asking us the real story first!” Jokaste complained, frowning.

 

She sat up and stretched her arms, pouting again.

 

“Even now that I know the full story, I’m still upset!” Damen exclaimed. “My brother, Jokaste! Even if it wasn’t serious between us, we had something going on, and then I learn you’re with my brother!”

 

“And I already told you I had no idea until a few weeks ago. We were already dating at that point.”

 

She huffed, pushed a few strands of her golden hair behind her back and crossed her arms.

 

“Damen, you have to realise that I don’t want that to change the fact that we’re friends,” she said softly as her expression saddened. “I’m sorry you’re upset, but I’ve made my choice. And I still want us to spend time together, even if a few things won’t be the same anymore.”

 

Damen heaved a long sigh and let himself fall on the bed, gaze fixed on the ceiling. He had no idea how to think about all of this. It was right that he had never thought of being serious with Jokaste, not for now anyway, so it shouldn’t bother him that she liked his brother instead. But it did.

 

He wasn’t jealous, however. No, it was more that it unsettled him. He couldn’t pinpoint on exactly how and why, but he knew it did.

 

Still, it was Jokaste’s choice. Those were her feelings and he wouldn’t be able to change any of them. He might sooner accept them in order to stop feeling so frustrated. It would be best for everyone’s sake.

 

“Alright... Just... give me a couple of days, maybe? Otherwise this might be awkward. I think I want to speak with Kastor about all this too.”

 

Jokaste suddenly squealed and threw herself at him, her arms around his neck as she hugged him tightly.

 

“You’re the best, Damen!” she exclaimed joyfully, pecking him on the cheek.

 

Damen started, not expecting such a reaction. He was at a loss for words, even when she let go of him and stood up, walking back to the door. She turned her head briefly and Damen thought he saw a languid look in her eyes. He wished so hard he was wrong.

 

“Everything’ll work out, you’ll see,” she said with a smile.

 

Then she was gone, leaving Damen completely confused.

 

* * *

 

Christmas was quiet this year. Usually, Damen’s family either returned to Greece where aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents still lived, or they would receive a big part of them over in England. But with Theomedes being ill and unfit for travel, they had decided to cancel any kind of plans involving the rest of the bigger family. It would be a good chance for Damen’s father to actually rest while the doctors tried to determine what it was he really had.

 

Damen was worried for his father. Not that Theomedes looked on the verge of dying or anything, but he was really tired, wheezing only from the simple acts like going down the stairs, and he couldn’t stay up more than half a day before he would almost collapse of exhaustion. The fact that the doctors couldn’t pinpoint what exactly ailed the man was all the more worrisome.

 

_/Well, this is as boring as expected./_

Damen was surprised with a text one morning between Christmas and New Year.

 

It was from Laurent.

 

Laurent was texting him of his own volition, was the first of the two to do so.

 

Damen was dumbfounded. Not only had he found it surprising that Laurent accepted they exchanged phone numbers, but now to see that his flatmate was in fact keeping contact with him... It was a whole new level in their relationship and Damen found that he was thrilled about it.

 

_/Your job? Whats he makin you do then?/_

/ _Secretary work. Paperwork. Everything to keep me away from the actual company./_

Damen grimaced. It was grating. Especially knowing how Laurent worked so hard for that company. They needed to find a way to get rid of Laurent’s uncle and fast!

 

_/Ouch thats harsh. Sorry to hear that./_

He thought about it and realised that, Christmas now passed, he wondered if Laurent had had a good time or if he had to spend it alone. Or worse yet, if he had to endure his uncle’s presence and if his uncle tried anything else against Laurent. That made Damen panic a little.

 

_/Merry late Christmas btw./_

_/To you too./_

Damen arched an eyebrow. Would it have killed Laurent to write the actual words? But then again, it might be something in itself for Laurent to wish it back to him.

 

_/Did you do something or...?/_

Damen felt a little bad for asking, but he had already hit send out of curiosity. He just hoped Laurent wouldn’t take it badly.

 

_/It was quiet. No need to concern yourself over it./_

So Laurent had spent Christmas alone. Damen grimaced once more. If it weren’t for the fact that Laurent was now a country away, Damen would have invited him over to spend the Holidays. At least, Laurent wouldn’t have had to go through it alone. It was sad, even if Laurent might not think so.

 

No one deserved to spend the Holidays alone.

 

_/K. If ur ok with it./_

_/Your spelling is horrifying./_

Damen burst out in laughter. It was something Laurent would say – or write, in this case. Laurent was so proper and uptight all the time, it showed in his texting as well.

 

_/Well sry. Its qiker u no. So bm./_

Damen typed as much mistakes as he could only to irk Laurent. He was not disappointed.

 

/ _It doesn’t serve its purpose if I can’t even understand you./_

Damen chuckled, having way too much fun. If he could rile up Laurent in a gentle way, then he would do it with great pleasure.

 

_/yyssw/_

_/What even...? I’m not texting you anymore./_

Damen had to put his phone away just to be careful not to throw it by accident since he was now laughing so hard. Who knew he could frustrate Laurent through texting? It was way more fun than he thought it would.

 

But still, Damen took pity on Laurent who might not have a clue about text language, not the English part at the very least. It was not his first language after all.

 

_/Sorry, please dont stop. Ill be good now./_

_/Adequate... It will have to do./_

Damen could read the eye roll Laurent must have done while writing. It brought another smile to his lips and he realised that, since coming back to his home for the Holidays, it was the first time he felt really at ease. What with Kastor and Jokaste – it was somewhat settled, but he still felt uneasy around them – and his father’s illness, even if they hadn’t done much celebration wise, Damen had felt a little bummed. Texting with Laurent lightened his mood and he found he had needed it.

 

Now, Damen just hoped that he managed to bring a smile to Laurent’s lips as Laurent did to him.

 

... Or at least brighten his mood. The guy never smiled much.

 

_/Thank you. Hey, cant believe Im saying this, but I cant wait for school to start./_

It took a while for Laurent to answer to that. Damen wondered if it was either because he got busy or because he was uneasy at the confession and didn’t know what to reply. It made Damen nervous and he couldn’t help checking his phone often, even though he would hear it when Laurent would send his response.

 

It took around ten minutes, and the text he received was short and brief, but Damen found that it was worth the wait and restlessness despite its curtness.

 

_/Likewise./_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this took forever to write... I was hit with a very nice case of writer's block atop a "what-you-write-is-trash" case. Very pleasant, I can tell you. Recommend it, 10/10.
> 
> Add to that I lost major modifications to a part I'd edited... Yeah. Very discouraging indeed lol.
> 
> I can't say I'm entirely back on my feet on that whole thing, I still think I lack vocabulary and end up doing much staring at the screen, less writing. I think it's getting better though.
> 
> I've also been working on a oneshot. The idea just wouldn't leave me. But that was hit rather hard as well, so it's been hella slow.
> 
> Anyway, enough with the sad violin. Thank you guys for sticking with me, I wouldn't be able to keep this up without you. Don't hesitate to tell me what you think :D
> 
> See you (hopefully) soon!


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